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WHAT A DREAM! THE WORST YET! 


THE END 

OF 

DREAMS 

BY 

WOOD LEVETTE WILSON 



Illustrations by A. G. Learned 


NEW YORK 

MITCHELL KENNERLEY 



Copyright , 1909 
hy Mitchell Kennerley 




rV 


o 








C Cl. A 280058 


To that unknown quantity in life which is 
always interesting , and sometimes fearsome. 




\ 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I When the Mask Slipped 9 

II The Arrest 25 

III The Favor of Vashti 46 

IV When Dreams Began 59 

V The Chance That Won 73 

VI Dinner at Cook's 88 

VII Two Greetings 101 

VIII From Behind 115 

IX After Profitless Years 123 

X The Fallen Image 139 

XI The Burden of Fear 157 

XII The Flame of Hope 170 

XIII At the Anchoret 188 

XIV Fear of Sleep 200 

XV For Love — and Life 212 

XVI The Note by Messenger 226 

XVII The Blind Trail 236 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB PAGE 

XVIII In the Coupe 248 

XIX Behind Locked Doors 257 

XX The Ebony Cane 270 

XXI When a Woman is Curious 282 

XXII The Warning 296 

XXIII The Day Before 310 

XXIV The Gathering Storm 319 

XXV Face to Face and Eye to Eye 330 

XXVI The Better Part 


342 


The End of Dreams 



Outward things are not in my power ; to will 
is in my power. Where shall I sieek the Good, 
and where the Evil ? Within me — in all that 


is my own. 


— Epictetus. 



CHAPTER I 
WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 

JgEATRICE COLLAMER awak- 
ened suddenly and thoroughly. She 
was not startled, nor had she any sense 
of fear, and yet she felt that something 
unusual was occurring. Darkness sur- 
rounded her, and she had no conception 
of the time. It might be anywhere be- 
tween eleven o’clock and dawn; though 
it seemed as if she had slept several 
hours. 


9 


THE END OF DREAMS 

The sound of measured breathing 
coming through the open door from the 
next room told her that her mother still 
slumbered peacefully. From the street 
occasionally came the usual and undis- 
turbing night noises of a quiet neighbor- 
hood, and from beyond, the subdued 
roar that passes in a city for silence. 

For several moments she lay and lis- 
tened, but there was no other sound. 
The possibility of burglars she quickly 
dismissed; one does not have much fear 
of burglars on the eighth floor of a well- 
filled apartment house. 

Still she lay and listened, with no in- 
clination to go to sleep again, unsatisfied 
and curious. And with the waiting came 
a desire to know the hour. She would 
go to the dining room where she could 
see the clock, and also get a drink of 
water. 


10 


WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 


Quietly she rose, so as not to disturb 
her mother, and, thrusting her feet into 
soft bedroom slippers and slipping on 
a dressing gown, stepped into the hall- 
way. The faint light of the night, com- 
ing through the windows, dimly located 
the walls and doors, and outlined the 
furniture in uncertain masses, and she 
was able to make her way noiselessly 
and expeditiously. 

As she paused at the dining room 
door, she thought she heard a slight 
noise as if some one had moved. Then 
her hand found the electric switch, and 
the room was flooded with light. For 
a second or two the glare blinded her; 
then she gasped, and caught at the door 
jamb. 

Standing by the sideboard, with a 
bundle in his hand, was a man, tall and 
well-built, and wearing a black mask! 
ll 


THE END OF DREAMS 

With a growl he turned as if he would 
throttle her and prevent the scream he 
expected. Then he caught himself and, 
giving a smothered, half -articulate cry, 
stood for a moment as if petrified with 
astonishment. 

“ Beatie ! ” he exclaimed, “ Y ou! 
Beatie!” 

Her breath almost stopped, and her 
heart seemed to rise up and choke her. 
Not in ten years had anyone called her 
by that name. And the voice! Her 
pulse raced, and her brain was in a whirl. 
Memories, doubts, fears — 

He recovered himself first. Tossing 
the bundle on the table, where it fell 
with a chink which told that its contents 
were such scant loot as the Collamer flat 
afforded, he sprang to the open door of 
the pantry. There he paused momen- 
tarily, and turned once more toward her. 

12 



AS HE SPOKE HIS MASK DROPPED FROM HIS FACE. 


WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 

“ Forget !” he exclaimed, in a low, 
tense voice. 

As he spoke the fastening of his 
mask gave way, and it dropped from 
his face. 

In Beatrice’s eyes shone the horror of 
confirmed, yet almost unbelievable, sus- 
picions. 

“Demas!” she screamed. 

With an oath, which she did not hear 
because she had crumpled down sense- 
less in the doorway, he jumped to the 
open window of the pantry, climbed out 
on the fire escape, and was gone. 

The first thing that Beatrice realized, 
as she gradually came to her senses, was 
that she was in bed, and that there was 
a rumble of voices near by. Then from 
the confusion of sounds came words 
that she distinguished. 

13 


THE END OF DREAMS 


“ — not the slightest cause for alarm, 
Mrs. Collamer,” a voice was saying — 
a voice that sounded like Dr. Runci- 
man’s, making her wonder why he was 
there. “ Merely a fainting fit which 
was quite the natural effect of the ad- 
venture — if we may judge by the evi- 
dences of a visit in the dining room. 
Miss Beatrice evidently came upon the 
intruder unexpectedly to both of them. 
Then she screamed and fainted, and he, 
seeing how he had disturbed a lady, 
quickly withdrew in a very gentlemanly 
way down the fire escape.” 

She opened her eyes and saw the doc- 
tor standing at the bedside, with un- 
kempt hair and beard awry as if he had 
hurriedly responded, from his apart- 
ments on a lower floor, to an emergency 
call. Near by stood her mother work- 
ing her hands together nervously. It 

14 


WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 

was not yet morning, and under the 
glare of the incandescents Mrs. Colla- 
mer looked ghastly and scared. Beat- 
rice took a long breath. 

“ Yes,” she said a little weakly, “ that 
was the way, Doctor.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed the doctor, stoop- 
ing and resting his fingers on the wrist 
that lay so inert on the bed. “ All right 
again, eh? No,” he interrupted him- 
self, as Beatrice made a movement to sit 
up, “not yet. Your pulse does not 
quite meet with my approval.” 

As her functions resumed their nor- 
mal activity, her strength returned rap- 
idly; and with this strength came the re- 
membrance of the meeting in the dining 
room. 

“ Oh! ” she cried, softly, as a shudder 
shook her body, and she covered her 
eyes with her hands. 

15 


THE END OF DREAMS 

Her mother knelt quickly at her bed- 
side. 

“ Don’t be frightened, Beatrice, 
dear,” she said. “ He’s gone now. 
He was only a burglar.” 

“ Only — a burglar!” she repeated, 
bringing out the last word, after a 
pause, slowly and reluctantly, while her 
eyes looked beyond her mother, and into 
the past when she had seen that un- 
masked face so often, and when she had 
so gladly welcomed its appearance 
every day. 

“Yes, dear,” her mother was saying; 
“ and we have sent for the police. 
They’re likely to be here any moment 
now.” 

“The police?” A frightened look 
came into her eyes as she spoke, and her 
nerves were tense. “ How — how long 
since — ” She paused. 

16 


WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 

“Since your adventure?” said the 
doctor, looking at his watch. “ Um-m-m, 
nearly an hour, I should say.” 

She relaxed again, and her eyes be- 
came calmer. Much might have been 
done in an hour. 

“ And now,” went on the doctor, “ as 
you seem to be all right again, I think 
I’ll return to my hard-earned rest — ” 

“ Oh, yes, Doctor, of course. I’m all 
right. It was too bad to disturb you. 
I’ll never forgive myself for being so 
foolish as to faint like that — ” 

“Tut, tut! It seems that I don’t 
dare to joke. Of course you should 
have called me. Indeed, I should not 
have thought so highly of you if you 
had not fainted in a thoroughly wo- 
manly manner, under the circumstances. 
But you did, fortunately. And now 
I’ll say good — well, yes, good-morning. 

17 


THE END OF DREAMS 

I’ll step in again, and see how you are 
getting along when I get up.” 

“ Try to sleep a little, Beatrice,” said 
Mrs. Collamer, when Doctor Runciman 
had gone, “so you will be thoroughly 
composed, and can tell the police all 
about it when they come. I’ll turn out 
the light, and he down on the couch in 
the other room. Doctor Runciman will 
tell the other people in the building that 
everything is all right.” 

Beatrice nodded slightly and closed 
her eyes, but she did not sleep. Still 
she heard that voice, and saw that un- 
masked face — the same, and yet so dif- 
ferent from what it had been ten years 
before. Could it be — She tried to 
disbelieve her own eyes and ears, and 
yet — 

Twenty minutes later the bell 
sounded, and she heard her mother ad- 
mit some one whose voice was deeply 
18 


WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 

masculine. Nearly an hour and a half, 
she thought, and it would be at least an- 
other half hour before the police were 
ready to take the trail. 

Adam Holtsclaw, plain clothes man, 
who represented one branch of the city’s 
eff orts to prevent and to discover crime, 
did not look the part. His hair and 
eyes were light, and his face was almost 
as rosy and pudgy as an infant’s, while 
his girth suggested sedentary rather 
than active pursuits. Yet he went over 
the flat with quick, shrewd glances that 
took in all details. The case was en- 
tirely clear to him. The burglar had 
mounted the fire escape, entered the 
pantry window and gathered up such 
loot as was convenient. Then, when he 
was interrupted, he had escaped the way 
he entered. 

“ I’ll talk to the young lady now, if 
you please, mum,” he said, finally. 

19 


THE END OF DREAMS 


It was Detective Holtsclaw’s boast 
that any person he met professionally 
he would always know at subsequent 
meetings, no matter when or where they 
occurred. Thus the light eyes were 
keen and critical when Beatrice entered 
wearing the same dressing gown she had 
on when the adventure occurred. They 
saw a woman of twenty-eight, not tall, 
yet seeming so from her slenderness and 
grace, with big grey eyes, and soft hair 
of a dusky brown that approached 
black, now coiled in hurried and careless 
masses about her head. 

At the detective’s request, she related 
the incidents from the time she awak- 
ened until she had fainted. 

“ Would you know the burglar if you 
saw him again?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she answered, reluctantly, 
after a pause. 


20 


WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 


“ Um-m-m,” said the detective, as he 
eyed her sharply. “Did he do any- 
thing in particular to make you 
scream ?” 

“ N-o.” 

“Um-m-m; and you didn’t scream 
until his mask fell off?” 

“ No-o-o.” Her reluctance increased 
appreciably. 

The detective turned his eyes full on 
hers. 

“ Had you ever seen him before? ” he 
asked. 

She seemed to be thinking, and did 
not answer. 

“Had you ever seen him before?” 
he repeated, not unkindly, but insist- 
ently. 

“Yes — I think so,” she admitted. 

“Why, Beatrice!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Collamer. 


21 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ One minute, lady,” said the detect- 
ive, interrupting what might have been 
a flow of exclamations. “ Jist a little 
ca’mness now; we seem to be gittin’ a 
start. How long,” he asked, turning 
once more to Beatrice, “ since you had 
seen him before? ” 

“ Oh,” her tone was low, but full of 
protest, “ten years — or more.” 

“Where?” 

“We went to the same college.” 

“ Um-m-m,” said the detective, 
sagely; “and what was his name — 
then?” 

Her voice sank even lower. 

“ I won’t tell you,” she said. 

“Why, Beatrice, child!” Mrs. Colla- 
mer’s voice rose in a shocked tone. 
“What do you mean? What is the 
matter with you? You must tell. It 
is the law. Who was he? ” 


22 


WHEN THE MASK SLIPPED 

The girl raised her face, bitter with 
doubt and trouble, and her chin trem- 
bled. 

“ I — ” Then burying her face in the 
broad upholstered side of the chair, she 
wound her arms about her head, as if to 
shut out everything, and sobbed. 

Mrs. Collamer knelt at her side with 
soothing words of comfort and encour- 
agement, while the detective cleared his 
throat and stroked his shaven chin. He 
was not a hard-hearted man, but duty 
was duty, so he held his place, silently 
waiting for the storm of emotion to 
pass, while he pictured to his own satis- 
faction something of the past. He 
could not believe, however, that a mere 
boy and girl affair like that could have 
been very serious, especially when they 
had not met in ten years, and the young 
man had manifestly become so impossi- 


THE END OF DREAMS 

ble. His voice was softer than usual 
when he spoke. 

“ You’d better tell me, Miss,” he said, 
“both for your own sake an’ his’n. If 
he’s jist gittin’ started wrong maybe we 
can give him a right steer, an’ if he’s all 
to the bad — well, you can’t do him no 
harm, an’ you may do other people lots 
o’ good. It’ll be better either way, an’ 
all ’round. Come on, now, what was his 
name?” 

Pushing her mother away from her, 
Beatrice rose and walked to the door of 
her own room. There she turned to- 
ward the detective with her face set, the 
corners of her mouth drawn down, and 
the tears of bitterness ready to over- 
flow. 

“Demas Dayre,” she said, as she 
stepped into the other room, and closed 
the door behind her. 

24 


CHAPTER II 


THE ARREST 

W HEN word came that the local 
police, at the behest of a detect- 
ive from another city, had arrested De- 
mas Dayre on a charge of burglary, the 
half dozen men who were sitting around 
the big fireplace, with its smouldering 
April evening fire, at the Sycamore 
club, stared at each other aghast. But 
only for a moment. Then they 
pounded their knees with their fists and 
laughed immoderately. The joke was 
unquestionably on Dayre. 

“ It would make it seem a whole lot 
more real if we’d leave him in all night,” 
said Boyd Lenroot: “but that would 
come pretty near being mean.” 

25 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“You bet!” exclaimed Nace For- 
bush. “ The inside of a jail is no joke, 
even if there’s no scare about it. It’s 
up to us to get him out; then he can 
come back with us, and throw a little 
party for us to show his gratitude. 
Come on, everybody, and we’ll pick 
up some of the other fellows on the 
way there.” 

So it was that half an hour later two 
touring cars stopped their chugging be- 
hind Forbush’s electric runabout in 
front of the police station, and eleven 
men, representing enough social, politi- 
cal, commercial and financial influence 
to go on the bond of any man charged 
with anything less than cold-blooded 
murder, climbed out and went to the res- 
cue of Demas Dayre. 

The desk sergeant’s room was not 
a wholly unpleasant or uncheerful place 
26 


THE ARREST 


with its ample supply of incandescents 
and its neutral tinted walls between it 
and the distress that was confined be- 
hind them. At the desk the sergeant 
sat in his blue and brass, busy with the 
routine of the night. In a far corner 
sat Demas and the visiting detective, 
who was smoking one of Demas’s 
cigars, and keeping an incidental watch 
over the prisoner. 

Demas really looked the part of the 
daring man of action better than the 
detective except as to the eyes, which 
were large and dark brown and mild, 
and spoke only of kindliness and hu- 
manity. Otherwise he filled the re- 
quirements well. He was tall and slen- 
der, but muscular, with a rather sallow, 
beardless face, and hair some shades 
darker than straw color, which grew 
high on his forehead almost to the line 
27 


THE END OF DREAMS 

of incipient baldness, altogether not 
very accurately defining his thirty-three 
years. At a look one might have 
guessed him twenty-five; at another, 
over forty. 

The general appearance and the con- 
fident manner of the company that 
came, the greetings that were ex- 
changed, and the evident attitude of re- 
spect on the part of the desk sergeant, 
impressed the detective to a degree that 
eff aced official arrogance. Forbush as- 
sumed the responsibilities of the occa- 
sion. 

“Good evening, Mr. — 55 Forbush 
hesitated, politely. 

“ Holtsclaw , 55 responded the detect- 
ive. “ Adam Holtsclaw, sir, at your 
service . 55 The detective was not to be 
outdone in politeness. 

“ Glad to meet you, Mr. Holtsclaw , 55 
28 


THE ARREST 


said Forbush, shaking hands — affability 
always being effective under such cir- 
cumstances. “ We are all” — Forbush, 
with a wave of his hand, included the 
other ten unquestionably innocent by- 
standers — “ sure that some mistake has 
been made. Perhaps, if you are under 
no official restrictions, Mr. Holtsclaw, 
you would be willing to tell us about the 
case.” 

“ Sure! ” agreed Mr. Holtsclaw, with 
his geniality expanding under the vivi- 
fying air of goodfellowship. “ The 
whole thing up to yet is on the records 
for anybody to read that wants to. It 
was a good job, an’ the man who done 
it ” — a graceful concession to the pris- 
oner’s possible innocence — “ wasn’t no 
slouch either in nerve nor at his trade. 
But he made one mistake. You see it 
was this way. He chucks a rope over 
29 


THE END OF DREAMS 


the lower end o’ the fire escape in the 
court o’ the Mirador flats, climbs up it 
— hand over hand, I reckon; then climbs 
the fire escape to the pantry window o’ 
Mrs. Collamer’s flat on the eighth 
floor.” 

“Mrs. Collamer?” exclaimed De- 
mas, who was also hearing the details 
for the first time. 

“Yes, Widow; lives with her grown 
daughter — um-m-m, le’s see — what was 
her name — um-m-m — Dor’ thy — naw, 
that wasn’t it — um-m-m — ” 

“Beatrice,” suggested Demas, with 
something very close to emotion in his 
voice. 

A gleam of triumph lighted the 
detective’s eyes at the success of his 
simple ruse. 

“Sure!” he exclaimed. “That’s itl 
Maybe you knew ’em before?” 
so 


THE ARREST 


“ I used to know Miss Collamer at 
college,” said Demas, steadily. “Go 
on with the story.” 

The detective spared no effort. He 
told the story with gusto down to its 
minutest detail. 

“ An’, ” he said, in conclusion, “ the 
whole thing was a bad break. You see 
you — um-m, that is, the burglar climbed 
one story too high. What he wanted 
was the flat below where a retail jew- 
’ler lives whose wife’s got a trunkful of 
jew’ls. There ain’t much o’ anything 
in Mrs. Collamer’s flat worth stealin’, 
for she ain’t a bit rich.” 

“Remarkable!” exclaimed Forbush, 
winking at Demas, who was leaning for- 
ward with the stern, set look of a man 
who is feeling much and striving not to 
show it. “ And how did you manage to 
identify your man so you could come 
31 


THE END OF DREAMS 

straight down here and make the ar- 
rest? ” 

The detective’s chest swelled a little 
in anticipation of the effect he was go- 
ing to produce. 

“ Well, that’s jist where I didn’t 
quite finish the story. You see, when 
the mask fell off, Miss Collamer rec- 
ognized the man. An’ though she 
didn’t want to give him away” — he 
looked knowingly at Demas — “ we per- 
suaded her it was better, so she fin’ly 
said it was Demas Dayre, and bolted 
into the other room, an’ I could hear her 
cryin’ clean through the shut door. 
The rest, o’ course, was easy.” 

The others, who were watching the 
detective, did not notice that Demas’s 
face had paled, and that his breath was 
coming rapidly. 

“Good work, Mr. Holtsclaw,” said 
32 


THE ARREST 


Forbush. “It’s clear enough that you 
know your business all right. Now, 
when was it that this attempted robbery 
occurred? ” 

“ Last Monday night.” 

“Last Monday night, eh?” For- 
bush smiled a little. 

“ Well, that is, early Tuesday morn- 
ing. It was not quite three o’clock 
when I answered that hurry-up call.” 

Forbush turned to the others. 

“Wasn’t it last Monday night,” he 
asked, “that Kennedy gave his birth- 
day party?” 

“ Sure! ” came the chorus. 

Again Forbush turned to the detect- 
ive. 

“Well, Mr. Holtsclaw, this either 
complicates the situation a good deal, or 
simplifies it immensely. I and all my 
friends here, as well as some others we 

33 


THE END OF DREAMS 

can produce if desired, will be quite wil- 
ling to testify that Mr. Dayre was at 
the table with us, at the Sycamore club, 
from ten o’clock Monday night until 
about three o’clock Tuesday morning 
when the party broke up. After that 
I walked up to the third floor of the 
club and saw Mr. Dayre go into his bed- 
room. The next morning I break- 
fasted with him at half past ten. So 
you see that it is manifestly impossible 
that he should have been within two 
hundred miles of Mrs. Collamer’s flat 
at the time the robbery occurred. As 
this is only Friday, of course the whole 
thing is fresh in our minds.” And he 
slowly turned an inquiring look on the 
sergeant. 

“I’m afraid you’re to the bad, Mr. 
Holtsclaw,” said that official, shaking 
his head. “ Now that I recollect it, I saw 


THE ARREST 


Mr. Dayre on Main street about nine 
o’clock Monday evening myself. After 
this evidence — these gentlemen are all 
known to me — of course you couldn’t 
expect — ” The sergeant let the tacit 
understanding of official courtesy finish 
the sentence for him. 

Mr. Holtsclaw drew a long breath. 
He could recognize evidence when he 
heard it, and this was of a convincing 
kind. 

“ No,” he said, reluctantly, “ I s’pose 
not. But it gits me, I tell you, it gits 
me.” 

“Well,” said Demas, drily, “I’m 
glad it doesn’t get me.” 

“How do you figger it out?” The 
detective’s manner was distressingly 
puzzled. 

Demas shook his head. 

“ I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that to 


85 


THE END OF DREAMS 

somebody who knows more about such 
things than I do,” he said. “ But if 
you want to reach me you can generally 
find me at the Sycamore club where I 
live. Or, if it will help you any, I 
might go back with you.” 

The detective shook his head deject- 
edly. The suspect was entirely too wil- 
ling. 

“No,” he said; “ I guess it wouldn’t 
be no use. I’ll have to git a new start. 
Somebody’s been wearin’ your mug 
or something like it. Maybe the girl 
had been thinkin’ about you, an’ bein’ 
all excited, of course — Oh, well.” 

“And now if that’s all, gentlemen,” 
said Forbush, “we’ll not interfere fur- 
ther with your official duties.” 

“I don’t see nothin’ more to it, Mr. 
Forbush,” said the sergeant. 

The friends of the accused trooped 
36 


THE ARREST 


out to the sidewalk, with Demas and 
Forbush in the rear, and loaded them- 
selves into their cars. 

“ You’ll have to go slow for me,” said 
Forbush; “I’m shy of juice.” 

“ Go slow nothing! ” exclaimed Len- 
root, from his wheel. “ You come 
along the best you can with that imita- 
tion of yours, and we’ll have everything 
ready when you get there.” And the 
two cars were off, leaving Forbush and 
Demas standing on the steps of the po- 
lice station. 

“ Sorry to have bothered you,” said 
Detective Holtsclaw, as he passed out. 
“I’m off to catch the next train back, 
and find out about this bum steer I 
got.” 

“ What’s your guess on it, Demas? ” 
asked Forbush. 

Demas gazed down the electric glare 
87 


THE END OF DREAMS 

of the street after the detective who was 
rapidly striding away, then pushed his 
hat back reflectively. 

“ Mighty queer thing,” he replied. 
“ Guess we’ll have to leave it to that de- 
tective to figure out. Let’s get back to 
the club, and — ” 

He stopped. A closed carriage had 
just driven up to the curb. From it the 
house detective of the Metropolitan de- 
partment store emerged, and held open 
the door for a woman who followed. 
She was tall and graceful, with a rather 
disdainful bearing; and was richly and 
tastefully dressed in a dark-colored 
traveling suit. Over her face was a 
dark veil. 

Without a word the two entered the 
police station, and Demas and Forbush, 
impelled by a curiosity which left them 
quite as silent, turned and followed. 

88 


THE ARREST 


The store detective stated his case 
briefly. He had arrested the woman 
for shoplifting. She had been seen to 
take a jeweled belt buckle, and he be- 
lieved that she had other goods belong- 
ing to the store concealed about her, 
though she had indignantly denied the 
accusation. He wanted her searched 
right away, as the store was still open 
and crowded, and he should be back at 
his post. 

The sergeant picked up his pen and 
turned to the woman. 

“ Your name? ” he asked. 

She hesitated a moment, and then 
tossed her head as if in defiance. 

“ Vashti Garwood/’ she answered. 

“ Residence? ” 

She did not reply. 

“ Residence?” he repeated. 

“ I’ll tell you nothing more,” she said. 

3.9 


THE END OF DREAMS 


There was determination in her tone, 
and the sergeant had no time to 
argue with her. 

“ I’ll send you in to be searched,” he 
said. “ If you want to send for some- 
body to go on your bond, you might get 
that part of the business started first, 
and save time.” 

For the first time the woman lifted 
her veil. Her features were almost 
classic in their beauty, with large lus- 
trous eyes of a brown that was near to 
black, and the deep rose-leaf cheeks of 
the brilliant brunette. 

As she looked around, her gaze, fall- 
ing on Demas, lighted for a moment 
with recognition which faded as rapidly 
as it flashed. 

“ No,” she said, turning again to 
the sergeant, “I don’t know anybody 
here. If you will let me go back to the 

40 


THE ARREST 


Grand hotel where I am staying, I will 
get enough money for a cash bond.” 

“Well,” said the sergeant, slowly, 
“ I might— ” 

The telephone bell rang, and he 
turned to the instrument at his elbow as 
if glad of the interruption. 

“Yes,” he answered — “Yes; he’s 
here. — Yes; just slated her.” 

The woman turned her eyes on him 
intently, eagerly. 

“How’s that?” the sergeant contin- 
ued to address the transmitter. — “Oh, 
you found it, did you? ” 

The woman emitted a hardly percep- 
tible sigh of relief as if something hoped 
for had happened. 

“Oh, yes,” the sergeant went on to 
the telephone, “if you say so. Huh? 
Don’t want to take any what? Oh, 
chances, I see. All right; it’s all off.” 

41 


THE END OF DREAMS 

He hung up the receiver, and turned to 
the store detective. 

“ The manager of the store says 
they’ve found that belt buckle, and 
wants us to let the woman go,” he said. 

The store detective looked disgusted. 

“Well,” he grumbled, “I s’pose — 
Oh, well, what’s the dif ? It’s all a part 
of the job, I guess. All right.” 

“ In that case, I suppose you have no 
objection to my taking the carriage 
back to my hotel without your com- 
pany,” said the woman, with frosty 
politeness. 

“ Naw,” he answered, shortly. 

As she turned to leave, she gave a 
slight bow that seemed to include every- 
body in the room. Once more her eyes 
rested for a moment on Demas, but this 
time without any definite expression. 
He met her gaze merely as an interested 
42 


THE ARREST 


and naturally somewhat sympathetic 
onlooker. Then she dropped her veil 
again, and with erect, dignified and 
graceful mien, passed out of the room. 

Demas and Forbush reached the 
door just as her carriage drove off. 

“Gee! Wasn’t she a peach?” ex- 
claimed Forbush, gazing after the vehi- 
cle. 

“ Rather impressive,” agreed Demas. 

“Well, if I’ve got anything she 
wants to shoplift, all she’s got to do is to 
say so, and I won’t lock it up. But I 
don’t believe she stole anything. Some- 
thing’s mixed in this business.” 

“ I hope so for her sake,” said Demas, 
as they climbed into the runabout. 
“It’s no fun being arrested; I’ve tried 
it.” 

Forbush laughed, as he pulled the 
lever. 


43 


THE END OF DREAMS 


“ There does seem to be a good deal 
doing in police circles tonight, doesn’t 
there? ” 

“More than a-plenty. It has jarred 
my nerves.” 

“ Oh, cheer up! We’ll be back to the 
club in five minutes, and the boys will 
have some nerve medicine for you wait- 
ing on the table.” 

Three or four blocks farther on For- 
bush spoke again. 

“ My guess is that she is an actress,” 
he said. “ What do you think? ” 

“Who?” Demas’s thoughts had 
been far afield. 

“ Why, the Juno that didn’t steal the 
belt buckle.” 

“ Oh. Um-m-m, well, she might be. 
She certainly seems to possess the most 
important element of success in the 
profession.” 


44 


THE ARREST 


“You bet! I’m going to see every 
show in town next week, and see if I 
can’t locate her. Here we are,” he 
added, as they pulled up at the curb. 


45 


CHAPTER III 


THE FAVOR OF VASHTI 

TKTHATEVER may have been the 
mystery of Demas Dayre’s ar- 
rest, there was none about Demas 
Dayre himself. Left alone in the 
world at the age of twenty-three with a 
modest competence, just after finishing 
his college course, he had come to the 
city from the little town in which he 
was born and brought up, as many an- 
other young man has done, and, as 
many another young man has not done, 
had, by fortunate and judicious invest- 
ments, increased that competence until 
it was something more than merely 
modest; more than sufficient, indeed, for 
46 


THE FAVOR OF VASHTI 

his needs, which were neither extrava- 
gant nor complex. For the first five 
years of his residence he had lived at 
the Grand hotel, and then, after having 
helped to found the Sycamore club, he 
had taken up his quarters there and had 
since remained. He never talked much 
about himself, either as to his past ex- 
periences or future hopes; hut his pres- 
ent advantages made it clear that he was 
privileged to lead the idle and rather 
aimless life that is so much envied even 
when it is unexciting and harmless. 
Thus it was that he had every reason not 
only to be content, but to gather in for 
his own, from time to time, his full share 
of enjoyment. 

And yet, as he sat there at the table 
with his eleven rescuers, wearing his 
habitually serene expression, he was 
neither happy nor contented. The jest 
47 


THE END OF DREAMS 

passed and the song rose, and Demas 
smiled, but he was even less talkative 
than usual. 

“Oh, cheer up, Demas!” cried Len- 
root. “ All you need is a little speed. 
You can live it down if you live fast 
enough.” 

“ I suppose all of you would be wil- 
ling to help on that system? ” 

“ Sure ! ” It was a chorus. 

“ Ho ! ” exclaimed Lenroot, as a hall 
boy entered with a salver. “A mes- 
sage from the gods ! Or, hold ! Things 
are moving pretty lively to-night — 
perchance it is from the goddesses. 
What will the little gentleman have 
next?” 

The boy, impassive from severe but 
correct training, presented the note to 
Demas. It was hotel stationery, and 
the superscription was in a woman’s 
48 


THE FAVOR OF VASHTI 


writing — a bold chirography that spoke 
of personal daring. 

For a moment he hesitated, and then, 
a song having started at the other end 
of the table in that spirit which never 
even considers the possibility of an em- 
barrassing pause, he opened the note 
and read it. As the song ended he rose. 

“Fm afraid I’ll have to ask you to 
excuse me,” he said. 

“Ah!” The chorused exclamation 
was both accusatory and congratula- 
tory. 

While waiting in the hallway for a 
cab, Demas read again: 


Dear Demie : 

You’re the wonder of the age! When I 
asked the cab driver about you he seemed not 
only to know all about you — or maybe not all 
— but to regard you as a fixture and a promi- 
nent citizen. That’s how I know where to send 
49 


THE END OF DREAMS 


this note. Come down to the Grand, and help 
me kill time until the two- thirty train. I’m 
off. This place is too precarious for me. I’ll 
meet you in the parlor, for everything must be 
eminently respectable — just as if it weren’t 
always ! 

Yours, 

Vashti. 

P. S. — The messenger won’t wait for an an- 
swer because I’m sure you will respond to the 
appeal of a poor lonesome lady. 

Demas sighed. There were times 
when he felt that something must be 
done ; times when the burden seemed to 
become too heavy to be borne, and so 
threatening that almost anything would 
be a relief. This was one of those 
times. And yet patience with ex- 
isting ills was surely better, for the 
present, at least, than to stir up others 
that could not even be guessed. Demas 
got into the cab. 


50 


THE FAVOE OF VASHTI 


Vashti Garwood laid down the maga- 
zine, which she had not been reading, 
and rose from the easy chair in the cor- 
ner as Demas entered. Naturally, being 
a woman with a keen appreciation of 
herself, she had changed her costume. 
Now it was a dark grey traveling suit of 
elaborate simplicity, with a little round 
bonnet, which matched both it and her, 
crowning effectively her coils of black 
hair. It was far after midnight, and 
nobody was about, yet she spoke in a 
discreetly subdued tone as she came for- 
ward and extended her hand. 

“ I’m surely glad to see you, Demie,” 
she said, cordially; “ for, of course, you 
know I couldn’t see you in the police 
station. But what’s the answer? ” 

“ There isn’t any,” replied Demas, ac- 
cepting the cordiality, but looking her 
over with eyes that were not familiar. 

51 


THE END OF DREAMS 

She laughed. 

“That would be talking about your 
occasional disappearances, wouldn’t it; 
and you wouldn’t tell anything about 
yourself for a million in real money, 
would you? Well, maybe some of these 
days I’ll learn to quit guessing on you, 
and take you as you happen to come 
along.” 

“Wouldn’t that be the best way?” 

“Oh, I suppose so. But what are 
you doing here, anyhow?” 

“ I’m just staying here.” 

“ Until that Collamer flat adventure 
blows over? That looked like pretty 
coarse work to me, Demie. A man 
ought to be able to count windows even 
in the dark. But at that it was 
foolish, just the same. You’re no stee- 
ple jack, and the stake wasn’t worth it 
even if you had gone right.” 

52 


THE FAVOR OF VASHTI 

“ The stake is never worth it.” 
There was an earnestness about his tone 
that surprised her. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “In the 
dumps, or just a grouch? ” 

“Neither,” he replied; “but one is 
bound to get tired sometimes.” 

She hesitated a moment thoughtfully 
before she answered. Then she turned 
her eyes full on his and Demas had to 
admit that they were remarkably fine 
eyes. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ that’s right. 
There are lots of better ways, of course, 
if there was just any way to get started 
in some of them.” Then she recovered 
her mood with a slight toss of her head. 
“Let’s go down to the cafe, and get 
some oysters and something to cheer us. 
We need it.” 

It was not exactly the sort of thing 
53 


THE END OF DREAMS 

that Demas would have preferred. 
However, it was very late; the cafe was 
probably deserted, or nearly so, and — 
what was the difference, anyway? 

“ All right,” he said. 

“ That table over in the corner half 
behind the plants will be about it, I 
think,” she said, as they entered. 

“ I really oughtn’t to have taken that 
belt buckle,” she said, after the waiter 
had taken their order. 

“No, I don’t think you ought.” 

“ Say, Demie, what’s the matter with 
you. You’re surely not losing your 
nerve, are you? ” 

“No, I was talking about you.” 

“ Well, anyhow, I didn’t take it. It 
seemed so easy and such a good joke, 
and besides it was so pretty, that — but 
then I got scared, and dropped it. So 
they couldn’t have done anything any- 
54 


THE FAVOR OF VASHTI 

how except stop me until somebody 
found it, which they were bound to do 
pretty soon. Still, I played pretty 
lucky.” 

“ Are you always lucky? ” 

“Don’t you know that I am? But 
what I want to know is what you were 
doing at the police station. That’s no 
place for you to loiter.” 

“ Why, I had some business there. 
Did you know that a detective from out 
of town had been there?” The ques- 
tion was thrown out for what it might 
discover. 

“No! What was he doing there?” 

“ On the trail of that robbery case, I 
believe.” 

“And you at the police station! 
Demie, your nerve has helped you out 
many a time, but it’s going to get you 
in bad some day.” 


55 


THE END OF DREAMS 


“I guess I can’t get in any deeper 
than I am now.” 

“No? Well, they might put the lid 
on you, you know.” She looked at her 
watch. “It’s time for me to go now 
if I’m going to catch that train.” She 
rose, and he followed her to the door 
leading into the hotel lobby. “Now, 
look here, Demie,” she went on. “You 
want to cheer up. Something’s gone 
wrong with you. I don’t know what it 
is, and you don’t seem to want to tell; 
but forget it. You’ve been away on 
whatever kind of toot this is long 
enough, and you need work to interest 
you. Come on back to business, and 
help Tom and me run the establishment. 
We’re doing fine, and business is get- 
ting better every night, and every day 
for that matter. Better go up on the 
train with me to-night. Can’t you? ” 

56 


THE FAVOR OF VASHTI 

“No, not to-night; I haven’t quite 
finished here,” he said, vaguely. 

“ Well, then come as soon as you can. 
It will be good for you and us, too. 
And if I don’t see you between now and 
then, don’t forget that small and early 
just for the two of us you are going to 
give me at Cook’s on my birthday. It’s 
next Thursday, you know. I’ll meet 
you there at nine o’clock. Now you 
won’t forget, will you? ” 

Demas glanced inquiringly at her to 
see if she were really in earnest. It 
seemed hard to believe, but she evidently 
was. 

“ I’ll be there, sure,” he said, posi- 
tively; “and will be glad to be there.” 

“ Now, that sounds better,” she said, 
gaily. “ And maybe there will be a lit- 
tle surprise for you.” 

“So much the better! You’re talk- 
57 


THE END OF DREAMS 


ing more like yourself, now. Good- 
night, and good bye, and good luck.” 

It was a long way back to the Syca- 
more club, but Demas covered the whole 
distance on foot. The streets were al- 
most deserted and his footsteps on the 
pavement sounded sharply through the 
stillness of the night. But he took no 
thought of this quiet loneliness. Far 
from that, he was thinking many 
thoughts that he had thought many 
times before, and some new ones; rous- 
ing many hopes that had risen and fal- 
len before, and some others that seemed 
even better. The opportunity he had 
looked for so long was perhaps almost 
at hand. He would be at Cook’s on 
Thursday night. What the result 
would be he could only hope among 
other new hopes. He hardly dared to 
guess. 


58 


CHAPTER IV 

WHEN DREAMS BEGAN 

^MONG other of his experiences 
that Demas Dayre did not talk 
about was the one that nearly ended his 
life, and even yet, after a lapse of eleven 
years, caused him serious distress. It 
happened when he was twenty-two, and 
in his last year of college. A batted 
ball had struck him on the side of the 
head, back of the ear, and he had been 
carried to his room unconscious. 
Through some oversight his people had 
not been notified of the accident, and 
afterward neither they nor any one else 
ever heard a word about it from Demas ; 
so among the multitude of minor casu- 
alties in college athletics it was quickly 
59 


THE END OF DREAMS 


forgotten by those who knew about it. 
But not by Demas. 

When one afternoon he recognized 
his surroundings, and was told that he 
had lain unconscious for six days, and 
part of the time near death, he stared in 
silent amazement. He recollected the 
ball game, and he understood now from 
the soreness of his head that he was re- 
covering from an accident, but — six 
days unconscious? 

It might have been six days or six 
months, but he could not feel that he 
had been unconscious. To him it 
seemed that during the interval he had 
been perversely conscious; that he had 
wandered far, that he had wandered in 
strange places, and that he had done 
things which pained and humiliated him 
now to recall; and, still worse, that he 
had done them with zest and enjoyment 
60 


WHEN DREAMS BEGAN 


in defiance and circumvention of au- 
thority. 

As he grew better he came to regard 
these memories as a bad dream, a sort 
of mania that had resulted from the ter- 
rific jar his brain had received, and was 
comforted by the very thought of their 
impossibility. 

And then — they came again! Came 
vividly during long hours of leaden 
sleep that left him far more exhausted 
when he awakened long after his usual 
hour than when he went to bed. At 
first these dreams were rare, but gradu- 
ally the intervals between them short- 
ened until now never a week passed but 
that he rose from his bed exhausted and 
distressed by his long stupor filled with 
visions of lawless and vicious actions, 
the very memory of which shamed him. 

It was when these dreams were re- 
61 


THE END OF DREAMS 


peated often enough to give them the 
force of horrible realities that he began 
to withdraw into himself and take on 
more solitary habits until he had broken 
his association with most of his friends, 
and even with Beatrice Collamer, with 
whom a friendship so devoted had ex- 
isted that college gossips talked, as col- 
lege gossips will. This was not easy 
for him — or for her. She was mysti- 
fied and hurt, but silent with the inflex- 
ible pride of youth. He was miserable 
and afraid — fearing for her the depths 
to which it seemed he must inevitably be 
dragged. 

So when the end of his college days 
came the parting was without explana- 
tion, and with only scant good-byes of 
masked and suppressed feeling. Then 
began his fight with himself to maintain 
himself, while he hoped even to the 
62 


WHEN DREAMS BEGAN 

verge of despair for the day of his tri- 
umph and safety when he could go back 
to her with the whole heartbreaking 
story and say “ All is well.” 

But the dreams continued to come, 
oftener, vivider and more distressingly, 
and even now after all the years that 
had passed, hope seemed as faint or 
fainter than ever. There was nothing 
to get hold of, nothing he could combat 
tangiblv, and evervthing to fear. 

It was after one of these nights of 
horror that the arrest had come, bring- 
ing, of course, something of a shock, 
but not complete surprise. Rather it 
came as something long deferred, but 
inevitable; and Demas, without an at- 
tempt at explanation or a word of pro- 
test, had gone with the detective to the 
station, and had sent word to Forbush. 
Then he waited more in curiosity than 
63 


THE END OF DREAMS 

apprehension for developments. It 
seemed quite possible that something of 
this kind was necessary, and he was al- 
most disappointed at his quick and easy 
exoneration. He could not help feel- 
ing that a more thorough delving into 
the case would have been to his advan- 
tage. 

Then had come Vashti Garwood, that 
beautiful stranger of adventurous na- 
ture, who knew him at sight, called him 
by name, and spoke of a friendship that 
had evidently existed for some time. 
Vashti Garwood was not just the sort 
of woman that Demas would have 
turned to for companionship, but her 
mention of the dinner at Cook’s seemed 
to promise some advance, and he deter- 
mined to keep the appointment. 

“Nace,” he said to Forbush, as they 
turned their attention to cigars and an 
64 


WHEN DREAMS BEGAN 


idle evening in Demas’s rooms after 
dinner on Wednesday, “ do you remem- 
ber what I said about going back with 
that detective? Well, I’m going up 
there to-morrow, and see if I can find 
out anything. If — well, if the trip 
shouldn’t turn out well, I wish you’d go 
through my desk and straighten things 
out afterward.” 

“Good lord, man! What are you 
expecting to happen? ” 

“Nothing in particular, of course; 
but I might run up against something. 
For one thing, I might be arrested for 
burglary.” 

Forbush laughed. 

“ By jingo, that’s so! I shouldn’t be 
surprised if you were. Well, if you 
really are, just make yourself as com- 
fortable as you can Thursday night in 
your cell, and, as I’ll be there Friday 
65 


THE END OF DREAMS 

morning, send word to the hotel, and 
I’ll come around at once and get you 
out.” 

Demas smiled. It might seem great 
fun to Nace Forbush, but as for him- 
self he could not help feeling a presenti- 
ment of embarrassment. There was a 
knock at the door and the hall boy 
brought in a card. 

“ Our friend, Mr. Holtsclaw, has re- 
turned,” said Demas, as he looked at it. 
“ Show the gentleman up,” he added, to 
the boy. 

“ What, Adam? ” exclaimed Forbush. 
“ Cheer up ! Maybe he has found addi- 
tional evidence, and is going to arrest 
you again.” 

Mr. Holtsclaw entered with the easy 
grace of a man who is accustomed to 
inquire into other people’s affairs, and, 
after a laconic greeting, seated himself, 
66 


WHEN DREAMS BEGAN 

with his hat on the floor beside him, and 
turned directly to the business that had 
brought him there. 

“Does it happen, Mr. Dayre,” he 
asked, “ that you have a brother? ” 

“ I’ve never heard that I had.” 

“ The reason I ast you is because I 
got a glimpst of a man that looks 
mighty like you Sunday evening. I 
started to trail him, but got blocked for 
a minute or so at a street crossing, an’ 
he got so far ahead that I lost him in 
some o’ them joints down in the neigh- 
borhood of Cook’s, which is no special 
recommend for him if any o’ them is his 
reg’lar hang out.” 

“ Well, no,” agreed Forbush, “ I 
should say not, especially Cook’s. 
That’s a mighty good place not to go 
after dark if a man wants to save his 
reputation and his money.” 

67 


THE END OF DREAMS 


“ Right you are ! ” exclaimed the de- 
tective. “ Though the slummers who 
are always chasin’ round tryin’ Bohe- 
mia are gittin’ on to the place, an’ if 
they don’t quit spendin’ money there, 
they’ll not only put Cook on Easy 
street, but will ruin the place as a 
crooks’ hang out.” 

“Which would be very unfortunate 
for the police department?” suggested 
Forbush. 

“Sure it would! When we’ve got 
such a place as that we know where to 
look for ’em. But there’s no use both- 
erin’ with that now. Cook don’t know 
anybody o’ your name, or anyhow he 
swears he don’t. An’ I’m beginnin’ to 
weaken on the name part o’ it myself. 
Sure you ain’t got no cousin or relative, 
Mr. Dayre, that looks something like 
you, an’s got a name something like 
68 


WHEN DREAMS BEGAN 

yours? Say, one ” — there was profes- 
sional shrewdness in the detective’s sug- 
gestion — “that’s something of a black 
sheep who’s been cut loose from the 
fam’ly, and forgot?” 

“No,” replied Demas, “there has 
never been anybody like that. In fact, 
I haven’t a relative in the world unless 
it be some old uncle or aunt that I’ve 
lost trace of.” 

“Well,” said the detective, with a 
long breath, “ this guy ain’t no old uncle 
or aunt. I thought maybe you could 
gimme a new steer, but if you can’t, you 
can’t. But, say,” he added, with the 
inspiration of a new idea, “ it might 
help somehow if you could find time to 
come up, and let me take you round for 
Miss Collamer to have a look at. How 
does that strike you? ” 

“Well,” responded Demas, thought- 
69 


THE END OF DREAMS 

fully, “ Mr. Forbush and I have ar- 
ranged to be there next Friday, when 
I’ll try to see Mrs. Collamer and her 
daughter, and do anything I can to help 
clear up this matter. I’ll let you know 
if I make any headway.” 

“ All right,” said the detective, “ I 
can see her afterward, too, an’ get her 
notion of it. I tell you, gents, I be- 
lieve that chap’s too slick to be loose. 
Besides, he’s got my mad up, an’ I’ll 
run him down if it takes me from now 
till my finish. The department’s losin’ 
int’rest in the case because they don’t 
think it amounts to much, but I’m goin’ 
to stick to it. I think there’s something 
in it.” 

“ There will be this in it for you, Mr. 
Holtsclaw,” said Demas, earnestly. 
“If you can capture him and hold him 
until I can come and meet him face to 
70 


WHEN DREAMS BEGAN 


face, I will pay you a reward of five 
hundred dollars.” 

“That’s the talk, Mr. Dayre!” ex- 
claimed the detective, enthusiastically. 
“ Not, of course, that I work jist for re- 
wards; but it shows you’re in earnest, 
an’ givin’ me your — er — your moral 
support.” 

Both men, engrossed by their 
thoughts, smoked in silence for some 
minutes after the detective left. 

“Demas,” said Forbush, finally, 
“ aren’t you a little over-enthusiastic, 
not to say extravagant, to offer a re- 
ward of five hundred dollars for a man 
that so able a detective is already hot on 
the trail of?” 

“Nace,” replied Demas, “if there 
was a crook that looked like you, and 
was using your name, wouldn’t you be 
pretty enthusiastic and even willing to 
71 


THE END OF DREAMS 


pay a pretty extravagant price to see 
him in jail? ” 

“ Well, maybe I would.” 

“ Besides,” added Demas, more seri- 
ously, “ such a meeting as that would 
mean a good deal more to me than you 
can imagine.” 


72 


CHAPTER V 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 

J T was two o’clock Thursday after- 
noon, and the bright sunshine was 
filtering dully through the drawn cur- 
tains of his apartments when Demas 
Dayre awakened from a long leaden 
sleep. For a few moments he lay with 
his eyes closed; then, with a shudder 
that seemed to speak of impending dis- 
aster, he threw back the covers, and 
swung himself into a sitting position on 
the side of the bed with his head in his 
hands. 

“Lord!” he muttered. “What a 
dream! The worst yet!” 

He raised his head, and looked about 
him. Everything was familiar — the 
73 


THE END OF DREAMS 


carelessly convenient apartment of a 
bachelor of careless habits; the tobacco 
stand and tray with fresh and half- 
burned cigars, and ashes; a bottle, a si- 
phon and a tall glass with half an inch 
of water in the bottom where what was 
left of the ice had melted over night; 
the photographs of women more dash- 
ing than lovely stuck about here and 
there; the carelessly scattered wearing 
apparel. 

He moved a little uncertainly at first, 
as he rose and made his way toward the 
bath. 

“They’re getting so they come too 
damned often,” he muttered; “too 
damned often and too damned hard.” 

He turned on the cold water tap, and 
sat down on the edge of the tub while it 
filled. 

“And the finish of that one — God! I 


74 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 

was there, and then — all at once! — I 
wasn’t — any place. Ugh!” He ran 
his fingers through his limp hair, brush- 
ing it back from his forehead. “ Some- 
thing’s going to happen to me some of 
these days, and — ” The sentence fin- 
ished with another shudder. 

The bath had a stimulating effect, 
however, and when he had finished 
dressing with his usual care and good 
taste, his nerves were steady again. 
Demas Dayre was not a man who wor- 
ried long over mere possibilities, how- 
ever dire they might appear, and his 
thoughts turned from dread to specula- 
tion. 

“ After all these years,” he muttered. 
“ God! I hadn’t thought of her before 
in — I don’t know when. And she 
looked pretty nearly the same as in the 
old college days when we thought — ” 
75 


THE END OF DREAMS 


He laughed a little grimly. “Damn 
that mask! She knew me in a min- 
ute. And now I suppose the police — 
Oh, well, it’s all a part of the game, and 
it was too small a case for them to stick 
to long.” He twitched his shoulders, 
and turned to his overcoat and stick. 

“ Mr. Gadgey was up to see you ’bout 
noon,” said the elevator boy, as Demas 
stepped into the car. “ He pounded 
and pounded on your door, but couldn’t 
raise you. Said he guessed you’d got 
up early, an’ went out, so he left this 
note for you.” 

Demas held the note a moment be- 
fore opening it. If Tom Gadgey had 
been unable to rouse him by pounding 
on the door, he wasn’t merely asleep, 
he must have been in a trance — practi- 
cally dead. A shiver ran through him 
at the idea, and he hastily tore open the 
76 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 


note to turn the current of his thoughts. 
In the entrance hall, he stopped, and 
read: 

Demie : 

They’ve got some kind of a clue on that fire 
escape stunt, and have already made one ar- 
rest in another town, but the chap pulled an 
alibi. Look out for a fly cop named Holts- 
claw. It might be a good scheme for you to 
jump the burg again for a while. Gadgey. 

“ Gadgey is an ass ! ” he growled, 
crushing the note in his hand. “ He 
ought to have more sense than to write 
such stuff — or anything else, for that 
matter. Still,” he admitted, grudg- 
ingly, “I suppose he meant to do the 
best thing.” 

He straightened the note out, and 
touching one corner of it with a lighted 
match, walked slowly out of the door 
as he watched it burn. Then he tossed 
77 


THE END OF DREAMS * 

the charred sheet into the air, and 
watched the brisk breeze tear it into 
fragments which were scattered in all 
directions. 

“ So they made an arrest — um-m-m,” 
he mused, as he walked slowly along the 
street. “ Then that one I had Friday 
night was not a — But good God, if it 
wasn’t a dream, what was it? ” 

The shattered feeling came over him 
again, and as he sat down at his usual 
table in the pleasantest corner of the 
cafe, his preliminary order was for 
liquor. He lingered long over his first 
meal of the day, though he thought 
more than he ate, and his thoughts were 
not pleasant thoughts. Finally, with a 
shrug, he got up. 

“ I need cheering up,” he growled 
to himself. “ I’ll go round and see how 
Vashti and the game are making it.” 

78 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 

At the corner he paused. 

“ The quieter streets are best,” he 
thought, with Gadgey’s warning in 
mind. 

Half a block farther on, he tossed the 
end of his cigar away, and stepped into 
the angle of a doorway to light another. 
As he raised the match to strike it on 
the side of the building, he felt a touch 
on his shoulder, and turned to face De- 
tective Holtsclaw. 

“I want you,” said Holtsclaw, in a 
low tone. “ Come on with me now, 
without makin’ no row.” 

In the few seconds pause before he 
answered, Demas thought rapidly — that 
dream of Saturday night; Gadgey’s 
note about the arrest! There was a 
chance — it might be only one out of 
a thousand, but it was the only one pos- 
sible now. 


79 


THE END OF DREAMS 

He smiled tolerantly at the de- 
tective. 

“ Really, Mr. Holtsclaw,” he said, 
quietly, as if he were suppressing a 
feeling of amusement complicated with 
annoyance, “ I should think you would 
get tired arresting me.” 

Holtsclaw stared. 

“ Why,” he gasped, “ you ain’t — ” 

“ Of course, I am. Weren’t you ex- 
pecting me? ” 

“That’s so! You did say you was 
cornin’ up here, but I thought it was 
to-morrow. Well, if this case don’t 
beat the devil!” 

“ Pretty queer, that’s a fact.” 

“Have you seen anything of the 
other one? ” 

“No; have you?” 

“Not a hair till I thought you was 
him.” 


80 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 

“You’re not losing hope, are you?” 

“Hell, no! I’ll run him down all 
right, an’ call on you for that five hun- 
derd yet, if you’ll gimme time.” 

“ Oh, I’m willing for you to take all 
the time you want to do a good job. 
Well, I’ve got to be moving along. If 
you find out anything worth while let 
me know about it at my hotel. I’ll 
be here several days.” 

Vashti Garwood was a woman of 
enterprise and industry as well as 
beauty and daring. She occupied all 
the three floors of a tall, narrow build- 
ing in a quiet and respectable, if not 
fashionable, part of the city. The front 
room at the side of the hall was fitted 
up in a business-like way as the office 
where she directed the commercial af- 
fairs of her fashionable dress-making 
81 


THE END OF DREAMS 


parlors, which extended back of it. On 
the second floor, with convenient access 
from the front and back entrances of 
the house, were her private apartments. 
The space on the third floor was not 
generally accounted for, but it was cau- 
tiously whispered that those of her clien- 
tele who were in her confidence could, 
if they chose, in these other rooms, 
spend their afternoons in risking any 
part of their allowance they liked in 
such games of chance as entertained 
them; and quite as cautiously was it 
whispered that after ten o’clock in the 
evening gentlemen, properly intro- 
duced, could play for higher stakes. 

Vashti was in her sitting room with 
the door open when Demas Dayre came 
up the stairway from the back entrance. 

“ Hello, Demie! ” she called. “ Come 
in here.” 


82 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 

Demas entered gloomily, and slumped 
down into an easy chair. 

“ Give me a drink,” he said, huskily. 

She glanced at him sharply, and saw 
that he was trembling. Then she shut 
the door, and, placing a taboret with a 
decanter and glasses at his side, poured 
out some liquor for him. 

“What’s the matter?” she asked. 

Demas swallowed the brandy at a 
gulp, then filled the glass a second time 
himself, and emptied it. 

“ What’s the matter with you? ” she 
asked again, more insistently. 

“ Oh, I had a devil of a night,” he 
replied; “ and most of the day, too, for 
that matter — I’ve just got up. Noth- 
ing but nightmares, and terrors, at that. 
I’m a wreck of nerves right now.” 

She laughed. 

“You a wreck of nerves?” she 


83 


THE END OF DREAMS 

scoffed. “I didn’t know you had any 
nerves. Tell me about it. Maybe that 
will help the booze brace you up.” 

“God, no I I don’t want to think 
about it, even.” 

Again he filled and emptied the glass, 
and this time set it down with more of 
his natural manner. The liquor was be- 
ginning to course through his blood, 
and to relieve the strain — not so much 
of the unsuccessful attempt to arrest 
him as of the way he evaded it. 

“ What’s getting into you lately, 
Demie? ” she asked, curiously. “ When 
I saw you last Friday night — ” 

“Last Friday night?” he gasped, 
and his hand trembled again. 

“Why sure! Are you daffy? Say, 
it isn’t drugs, is it? ” 

He shook his head, and poured out 
another glass of brandy. 

84 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 

“Tut, tut, Demie!” she protested. 
“ Go slow with the booze. At this rate 
you won’t be able to get about for my 
birthday dinner this evening.” 

He drank the liquor, and with an 
effort got a grip on himself. 

“Well,” he said, “what’s the rest of 
your kick about Friday evening? ” 

“ Oh, nothing, only you seemed to be 
all to the moral, then. I suppose it’s 
part of whatever the game is down 
there, and you had to keep in character. 
But it must take a whole lot of railroad 
traveling to work both ends of your 
job.” 

“ Oh, yes,” he agreed, vaguely, “ but 
I don’t mind that as long as it pays.” 

“You’re a wonder, Demie.” 

For a moment’s pause fear and curi- 
osity struggled in him mentally, and 
then fear won. He turned the subject. 

85 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“What was it you said about your 
birthday dinner this evening ?” he 
asked. 

“My, but you must be the busy one 
to forget your dates that way. You’re 
going to throw a little party for me this 
evening at Cook’s, just you and me, 
for old acquaintance’ sake. I’m thirty- 
one, you know, but everybody doesn’t 
know, and I don’t tell other people 
about my birthdays.” 

“ That’s right,” he agreed. “ I re- 
member it all right. It was to be at 
half past eight, wasn’t it? ” 

“You said nine before, but I haven’t 
anything to do, so let’s make it half 
past eight.” 

“All right,, then,” he said, rising; 
“ half past eight. I’ll come by for you. 
I don’t have to tell you to look pretty 
because you can’t help it.” 

86 


THE CHANCE THAT WON 

“Tush! Remember that I’m thirty- 
one, and have quit swallowing them 
whole. But, goodness, Demie, you’re 
not going already, are you? What did 
you come for? Just for a few drinks? ” 

“Partly. You always keep good 
liquor, Vashti. Which is a good deal 
of an achievement for a woman.” 

“Oh, thank you, Sir!” she ex- 
claimed, mockingly. 

It was not because he was bored by 
Vashti Garwood, but because he was 
afraid of himself, that Demas Dayre 
left her so soon. He wanted to be alone; 
to think; to wonder; perhaps to trem- 
ble. At every turn he seemed to be find- 
ing out something that he did not want 
to know; something that he feared to 
know, but feared more not to know. 
And through it all he had premonitions 
that made him shudder. 

87 


CHAPTER VI 


DINNER AT COOK’S 

of the peculiarities of Cook’s 
was that it was bigger inside than 
outside. The careless passer-by would 
have noted it only as a common saloon. 
If he had taken a chance on entering it 
his first opinion would have been con- 
firmed by the cigar case in front, the 
mirrored screen, the long bar, and, back 
of this, the long lunch counter on one 
side of the room and the row of un- 
draped tables on the other. To knowing 
customers of limited means, imagination 
and possibilities, this was all of Cook’s, 
except the little room at the end of the 
lunch room, where Cook or his trusted 
representative sat at a desk, midst 
88 


DINNER AT COOK'S 


clouds of cigar smoke, at all hours, 
ready to decide all questions instanter, 
from the purchase of supplies to the 
refusal of admission to those unknowns 
who had presumptuously knocked, and 
the ejectment of the undesirable who 
were already inside. 

But back of this room, running at 
right angles to it, and giving on a side 
street, was another part of Cook’s, of 
which the wayfaring customer of scant 
means had little or no knowledge. This 
was for an aristocracy of skill and 
profit, and their venturesome friends 
who were willing to take some risks in 
order to see certain sides of life which 
were not ordinarily visible to them. 

Behind the side street door, with the 
single red incandescent light about it, 
which opened on this comparatively lit- 
tle known portion of the place, was an 
89 


THE END OF DREAMS 


impressively courteous automaton in 
somber black livery which was relieved 
by numerous crimson buttons. It was 
his business to open the always locked 
door and admit those who were known 
or vouched for properly; or to reject 
those who were not, and, if they were 
insistent, to touch a push button in the 
wall to summon Cook or his trusted 
representative and such assistance as 
might be necessary to persuade the un- 
welcome that they were not wanted. 

Half way down this passage a stair- 
way led to the second floor. With each 
mounting step one became conscious of 
richer and more luxurious furnishings, 
until, in the corridor of the second floor, 
one forgot the vulgar and noisy garish- 
ness of Cook’s of the street below, if 
he were acquainted with it, and thought 
of other things. 


90 


DINNER AT COOK’S 

Here one, or more, but generally two, 
were met by another impassively court- 
eous automaton in somber black livery 
relieved by numerous crimson buttons, 
and escorted to one of the excellently 
appointed little dining rooms, which 
opened on either side of the corridor. 

Speaking generally, there was no 
place in the city where better or more 
expensive food and beverages were 
served than on the second floor at 
Cook’s, and very few places where such 
things were worse or cheaper than on 
the first floor. Thus, taken from top 
to bottom, Cook’s was, in its way, a 
very convenient and extremely pros- 
perous and profitable establishment, 
discreetly conducted. 

There was no delay when Demas 
Dayre and Yashti Garwood rang at the 
door with the red incandescent over it. 

91 


THE END OF DREAMS 


The courteous automaton with the som- 
ber livery and crimson buttons bowed 
respectfully as he swung the door wide, 
and, with the grace of a head waiter, 
extended a welcoming arm toward the 
stairway. 

The table in the room to which they 
were ushered was set for two. Its na- 
pery was snowy, its silver and glass bril- 
liant, and its service quick and wholly 
unobtrusive. Mr. Dayre was known at 
Cook’s. His demands were exacting, 
but his tips were liberal, and his pay- 
ments immediate. 

Vashti threw off her wraps, and sat 
down to the table with a sigh of luxur- 
ious content. 

“It seems a shame,” she said, “that 
such a good place as this isn’t really 
swell.” 

“Not for me,” declared Demas, as 
92 


DINNER AT COOK’S 

he shook out his napkin. “If it was 
swell we’d have rotten music, and not 
such good things to eat and drink. 
There are a whole lot of hardships about 
being swell.” 

Vashti laughed. 

“Well, anyhow, we’re here,” she said; 
“and it’s fine. But do you know I 
hadn’t seen you for so long I was afraid 
you had forgotten all about it till Fri- 
day night.” 

“ When you say you met me — ” 

“ When I say I met you? Oh, come 
now, Demie, it isn’t the pipe or any- 
thing like that, is it? But after what 
you said that night I knew you’d be 
here all right.” 

“What did I say?” he asked, a lit- 
tle apprehensively. 

“ Say? Why, you said you would 
be here at nine o’clock sure, and from 
9S 


THE END OF DREAMS 


the way you said it I knew I could count 
on it just like real money.” 

Demas’s smile-mask not only held its 
place, but stiffened a little. 

“What time did you say?” he asked. 

“ Why ” — her tone exhibited a sur- 
prise that almost amounted to impa- 
tience — “ nine o’clock.” 

Demas stroked his chin thoughtfully, 
and carefully pushing his cocktail glass 
further from the edge of the table, 
looked at his watch. It showed five 
minutes of nine. 

“You wouldn’t mind, would you,” 
he said, shoving his chair back, “ if I 
take my overcoat downstairs to have it 
brushed off while we’re waiting for the 
soup? I got it dirty on the cab wheel, 
you know.” 

“ Why not send it down by the 
waiter?” 


94 


DINNER AT COOK’S 

“ Well, I want to see Cook a minute, 
anyhow, and I might as well take it 
down.” 

“ Oh, all right; but I shan’t wait for 
you. I’m hungry, and as soon as any- 
thing to eat comes I’m going right 
ahead.” 

“Sure! But it won’t take me five 
minutes, and I’ll keep the nine o’clock 
part of my engagement, too.” He 
laughed — perhaps a little uneasily — as 
he gathered up his coat and hat, and 
passed out, closing the door after him. 

Vashti was somewhat puzzled, but 
neither offended nor worried. Demas 
Dayre always had his own ways of do- 
ing things, but he was always a good 
fellow, and good company. She rose 
leisurely, and readjusting the comb in 
the back of her hair as she went, stepped 
to the long narrow mirror that was set 
95 


THE END OF DREAMS 


between the windows. There she gave 
an imaginary tilt to her hat to make its 
angle more to her liking. Then she 
turned sidewise to the glass to get such 
view as was possible of the back of her 
skirt. 

As she did so the ornate little French 
clock on the pedestal in the corner be- 
gan, with a silvery tinkle, to announce 
nine o’clock. At the same moment the 
door was pushed open, and Demas 
Dayre stood in it with a grave but 
watchful and expectant expression. 
His inverness was on now, and he re- 
moved his hat as she turned toward him. 

“Right on the dot!” she exclaimed, 
gaily, nodding toward the clock where 
the tinkling bell had just ceased. 

He stepped inside and closed the 
door. 

“Always,” he said, as he glanced 
96 


DINNER AT COOK’S 

keenly around the room. He threw off 
his coat, incidentally touching his right 
hand to his hip, as if for reassurance. 

“ I think I’d rather have you sit on 
the side of the table facing the door,” 
she said. “ Then I can see part of my- 
self in the mirror by rubbering a little.” 

“ That suits me excellently,” he said, 
with a smile that was meant to show her 
man’s usual tolerance of woman’s van- 
ity. He eyed the empty cocktail glass 
curiously, as he sat down. 

“ Everything ordered? ” he asked. 

She looked at him in surprise. 

“ Why, yes, of course ! ” she ex- 
claimed. “Didn’t you — ” 

She finished with a half suppressed 
scream. 

There was the sound of a revolver 
shot; the carafe that had stood in the 
center of the table was shattered, and 
97 


THE END OF DREAMS 

there was a hole in the mirror with a 
star-like lot of cracks extending from 
it. In the white panel of the door a 
black hole showed where the shot had 
come from. 

In an instant Demas had rushed to 
the door, jerked it open, and stood there 
revolver in hand, looking up and down 
the corridor. 

In another instant there was the rush 
of heavy feet padding along the thick 
carpet, and, as Demas drew back into 
the room, Detective Adam Holtsclaw, 
with two men behind him, rushed in, 
and covered Demas ’with his revolver. 

“ Drop that gun!” he growled, 
fiercely. 

“ Why, what’s the matter here, Mr. 
Holtsclaw? ” exclaimed Demas. “ Who 
fired that shot?” 

“ Who fired that shot? ” repeated the 
98 


DINNER AT COOK'S 

detective with truculent sarcasm. “ You 
just drop that gun, and come with me. 
Drop it, I tell you! ” 

Demas quietly laid the revolver on 
the table. 

“ What do you want? ” he asked. 

“Want? I want you, an’ no monkey 
business about it, either !” 

“ Why, I should think by this time it 
was not worth while to arrest me.” 

“ Say, now, that’ll do for you! You 
gimme that gag once to-day, an’ made 
it go, but never again — nit!” 

Demas smiled. 

“You will at least permit this lady to 
retire? ” 

“ Yep; we don’t want her — now. But 
we’re goin’ to have you — see? ” 

Demas turned to Vashti. 

“ I hope,” he said apologetically, 1 
“ that you will pardon this unexpected 
99 


THE END OF DREAMS 

and inexcusable interruption as far as 
you can.” 

Vashti had already hurried into her 
wraps, maintaining a discreet silence. 

“ You will find my cab at the door. 
Please take it,” Demas went on, as she 
passed out. Then, turning to the de- 
tective, he added: “ I am once more at 
your service, Mr. Holtsclaw, until I can 
again prove an alibi.” 


100 


CHAPTER VII 


TWO GREETINGS 

gEATRICE COLL AMER painted 
on china, sometimes for pleasure 
with incidental profit, and sometimes 
for profit with incidental pleasure. 
Under the latter conditions the impa- 
tience of her patrons often amounted 
almost to a time limit on the work. It 
was a commission of this kind that 
urged her to the necessity of an early 
trip down town for additional mate- 
rials. Thus it was only a little after 
eight o’clock when she left a crowded 
car to join the hurrying throngs on the 
sidewalk. 

As she stepped up on the curb she 
caught her breath, and almost stopped. 

101 


THE END OF DREAMS 

From a cafe on the corner a man had 
just emerged, and was making his way 
toward a waiting cab. He was tall and 
erect, and wore an inverness closely but- 
toned and a silk hat, and gave the gen- 
eral impression that he had not yet 
found an opportunity to put off his 
evening clothes. 

She was within half a dozen steps of 
him when, just as he was about to enter 
the cab, he turned toward her, and she 
found herself once more face to face 
with a man whose identity had been re- 
vealed to her by the slipping of his 
mask. In the full, clear morning light 
the face was so familiar that his name, 
with a word of greeting, rose to her lips, 
and then something — something differ- 
ent, something strange, something al- 
most fearsome — checked it unuttered, 
and what had started to be a smile 
102 


TWO GREETINGS 


ended in her under lip being tightly held 
between her teeth. She fixed her gaze 
straight ahead of her, and moved on, 
but even as she did so she saw a smile, 
something like those of the happier days 
in college, but more worldly and auda- 
cious, spread over his face as he lifted 
his hat. Then, with a word to the 
driver, he stepped quickly into the cab, 
and the horse started briskly at the 
crack of the whip. 

Beatrice’s heart thumped and her 
breath came quickly as she hurried on. 
She could not understand her own feel- 
ings. At the first glance of recognition 
her sensation had been of gladness tem- 
pered by fear for his safety, followed 
by an impulse to urge him to go away 
quickly before he was discovered. 
Then, before she could act, she was 
swept by a feeling of revulsion, a sense 
103 


THE END OF DREAMS 


of an unexplainable difference and a 
desire to hurry away before he could 
speak to her. She told herself that this 
was because he had sunk from all that 
was noble and chivalrous to be a com- 
mon criminal; and yet as she told her- 
self this she did not believe it. That 
would be reason enough, she knew, but 
there was some other, something that 
she could not understand. 

She made her purchases quickly, and 
hurried home to find, with relief, that 
her mother had gone out to spend the 
morning. With her disturbed emo- 
tions she did not want to talk. Her 
intention was to try to forget her dis- 
tress in her work, and yet when she had 
put on her big painting apron and gone 
to her work room she did not take 
up her brushes. Wondering thoughts 
held her — thoughts of the bright prom- 
104 


TWO GREETINGS 


ise of the past and the wreck of the 
present — as she stood at the window 
staring out with only half seeing eyes 
at the jumble of house tops which 
stretched away in the smoky atmosphere 
before her. 

Finally she set her teeth and clenched 
her hands; she must work — and forget. 
Spurring herself with this determina- 
tion, she turned to her work table. But 
even as she reached it, the thoughts she 
had just put away from her returned 
with a rush that was almost overwhelm- 
ing, and she tremblingly grasped the 
edge of the table to steady herself. 

Before her lay a letter. Not in ten 
years had she seen that handwriting, but 
her memory of it had not faded. 

For a moment she could only gaze 
at it in wonder. Fear clenched her 
heart at the thought of opening it; she 
105 


THE END OF DREAMS 

would, she must send it back without 
reading it ; and yet, perhaps — An in- 
fluence she could not understand im- 
pelled her to open it. Her hand trem- 
bled, but did not hesitate as she reached 
to pick it up. 

But even as she grasped it the tension 
of her nerves lessened, and she sank in 
her chair with a long breath that told of 
relief from the strain. The wild beat- 
ing of her heart slackened as she once 
more gazed at the superscription, and 
though her fingers were nervous when 
she came to open the envelope, they 
were not reluctant, and her hand was 
steady when she unfolded the enclosure, 
dated the evening before, and read: 

Dear Beatie: 

I had the startling experience the other 
evening of being arrested for robbing your 
home by a detective who said you had recog- 
106 


TWO GREETINGS 


nized me when the burglar’s mask fell off. As 
I happened to be one of a large party at a 
late and long drawn out dinner on the night of 
the burglary, I had no trouble in establishing 
an alibi, and being released without prejudice. 
It must have been as startling to you to believe 
I was trying to rob you as it was to me to be 
accused of it. The affair is so queer that I 
should like to see you and talk to you about 
it, or if you don’t want to talk about it, I should 
like to see you anyhow. I arrived late to-day, 
and will come to see you to-morrow afternoon 
if I may. 

Yours as ever, 

Demas. 

She had no feeling of antagonism as 
she laid the note down after a third 
careful reading. It was from Demas, 
the Demas of other days, and breathed 
of an association that lay sweet in her 
memory. 

It was all very strange, but no doubt 
107 


THE END OF DREAMS 

he could explain it, and if he could not, 
what did it matter? She had been 
startled and frightened, and had made 
a mistake — that was all. And yet when 
she had seen him that morning, he was 
so different, so — As she thought of 
that greeting, the feeling of aversion 
again possessed her ; but now, as she held 
his note in her hand, and gazed at the 
writing she knew so well, she wanted to 
see him, was eager to see him. She went 
quickly to the telephone, and called a 
messenger. Then she sat down at her 
desk, and wrote: 

Dear Demas: 

I shall be home all the rest of the day. 
Please come. 

As ever, 

Beatie. 

And when the boy had carried off the 
note, she returned to her work room 
108 


TWO GREETINGS 


with a song in her heart. The ten blank 
years seemed to have been wiped out of 
her life, and the old days of happiness 
and hope were come again. She took 
up her brushes cheerfully, and sang a 
little, softly, as she worked. 

When the clerk had read the name 
Nace Forbush wrote on the hotel regis- 
ter, he quickly took from a pigeonhole 
a letter addressed to him in Demas 
Dayre’s handwriting and marked “ Ur- 
gent.” 

Fifteen minutes later, with the hotel 
detective, who knew him and could 
vouch for him, Forbush stood in the 
precinct police station, and saw Demas, 
escorted by an officer, come from behind 
the iron door that cut the cells off from 
the free world. 

“ It didn’t take them long to get you, 
109 


THE END OF DREAMS 

did it? ” he laughed, as he held out his 
hand. 

“ No,” agreed Demas, smiling rue- 
fully; “but they averaged it up by 
holding me a good while.” 

“Why, didn’t you spend a pleasant 
night? ” 

Demas glanced back toward the cell 
with a shrug. 

“ Not exactly,” he said. 

The situation was explained to the 
sergeant in charge, and Detective 
Holtsclaw was called. For a moment 
he stared at Demas and Forbush, as 
they sat side by side; then he threw up 
his hands. 

“Well, gents,” he said, as one who 
offers an ample and graceful apology, 
“ I guess the joke’s on me.” 

Demas once more looked back at the 
cell chamber, and sighed. 

no 


TWO GREETINGS 

“It looks as if it were, Mr. Holts- 
claw,” he said. 

As they rode back to the hotel, Demas 
answered only vaguely Forbush’s ques- 
tion as to how it all happened, and Nace 
did not push it. There were times when 
Demas would not talk, and recognizing 
this as one of them, Forbush remained 
silent. He knew that if Demas had 
anything he cared to tell, he would tell 
it sooner or later without urging, and 
that if he did not care to tell, no amount 
of urging would draw anything from 
him. 

Meantime Demas was pondering on 
what to tell. To go into all the circum- 
stances connected with his arrest meant 
that he must describe his meeting with 
Vashti Garwood at the hotel, when she 
had called him by name and reminded 
him of their dinner engagement; and 
ill 


THE END OF DREAMS 

to explain all this would carry him into 
personal depths where he did not yet 
care to venture. The result was that he 
decided to make no explanations what- 
ever. 

While they were waiting for break- 
fast, Forbush threw out another feeler 
— just in case Demas might need a lit- 
tle encouragement to go into details. 

“ You might have told them who you 
were, and where you were from,” he 
suggested, “ and had them telegraph — ” 

“I tried to, but they wouldn’t even 
listen to me. Holtsclaw said I had 
fooled him once that day, and he didn’t 
propose to be fooled again.” 

“Fooled him once? Did he mean 
that — ” 

“I didn’t find out what he meant. 
They shoved me behind the bars then, 
and I didn’t hear anything more.” 

112 


TWO GREETINGS 


“Demas,” said Forbush, solemnly, 
“ it means that that other chap is around 
here yet, and that he’s not hiding, either. 
Gad, but he must have a nerve ! Why, 
we might run aqross him any time, and 
— Say, Demas, what would you do if 
you met him face to face?” 

For a moment Demas did not answer. 
He appeared to be thinking seriously. 

“I don’t know exactly,” he said, 
finally, “but I think something would 
happen.” He paused, and then added 
slowly: “Something that might be 
rather difficult to explain.” 

Forbush nodded understanding!}*, 
with the hope that he would be present 
at the time. He felt sure that it would 
be worth while. 

“If you’ve nothing for me to do, 
Nace,” said Demas, as they rose from 
the table, “ I think I’ll try to get a few 
113 


THE END OF DREAMS 

hours sleep. I didn’t rest very well at 
the police station.” 

“ All right. I’ve got a whole bundle 
of chores to do while I’m here, so take 
your time, and I’ll see you later.” 


114 


CHAPTER VIII 


FROM BEHIND 

jpj EMAS DAYRE awoke with the 
feeling that he had been snatched 
from the brink of a precipice beyond 
which was the chasm of personal obliv- 
ion where men disappeared and were 
never seen again. He came into the 
possession of his faculties slowly and 
with a shudder, followed by the con- 
sciousness that some one was pounding 
violently on his door. For a minute or 
two he lay still, half in wonder, half in 
fear, waiting for the noise to stop. Rut 
it did not stop. The afternoon sun was 
streaming into his windows, and the 
room was perfectly light, yet even this 
cheerfulness acted slowly in dispelling 
115 


THE END OF DREAMS 

the horror he felt. He had been so near 
the end, had averted the catastrophe by 
such a narrow margin, had seen such in- 
controvertible signs of the inevitable — 

The pounding on his door continued, 
and he roused himself with an eff ort. 

“ Come ini ” he called, in a voice that 
he steadied with some effort. 

The door knob rattled, and the 
knocker said something impatiently 
that he could not understand. 

“ Wait a minute! ” he called. 

He got out of bed, and staggered to 
the door catching at the furniture as he 
went. 

“Who is it?” he demanded. 

“ It’s me! Open up,” responded the 
voice, muffled by the heavy oak. 

He turned the key, and, moving 
quickly, but uncertainly, across the 
room, dropped down on a couch. 

116 


FROM BEHIND 


The door opened, and Tom Gadgey 
entered. He wore the well fitting 
clothes, the fancy waistcoat, the strik- 
ing necktie, the immaculate linen and 
the impressive diamonds of the pros- 
perous gambler. His smooth-shaven 
face, ordinarily pale and hard, was now 
flushed from his exertions at the door 
and his annoyance. 

“Well, for God's sake!” he ex- 
claimed, irritably. “Was you in a 
trance, or was you just dead?” 

“ I don’t know,” Demas answered, 
dully, with the falling inflection that in- 
dicated he had not fully comprehended 
the question. 

“What’s the matter with you, any- 
how?” 

Demas roused himself with an effort, 
and straightened up on the couch. 

“Nothing,” he replied. “Why?” 

117 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ Why? Didn’t somebody take a 
crack at you through the door at Cook’s 
last night, and didn’t you get pinched? 
Vashti sent me word about it early this 
morning, and I see in a minute that you 
was in bad. Then I got a hustle on, 
and when I went down to the police sta- 
tion they tells me that some bloke from 
out o’ town had squared it. What’s the 
answer? ” 

Demas walked over to the table where 
the decanter was, and filled a pony. 

“Have a drink?” he asked. 

“No, I won’t have a drink — yet. I 
want to know what this is all about, any- 
how.” 

Before answering, Demas drank the 
liquor at a swallow. 

“ I don’t know,” he said — again with 
the falling inflection of non-comprehen- 
sion mixed with indifference. 


118 


FROM BEHIND 


Gadgey stared at him. 

“ Look here, Demie,” he said, “ have 
you been hittin’ the dope?” 

Demas refilled the glass, and took an- 
other drink. The liquor warmed him, 
and he laughed a little. 

“No,” he said, more naturally, “ but 
I’ve been having some rotten bad 
dreams — ugh!” The exclamation was 
both natural and affected — natural 
from the remembrance of what he had 
gone through, and affected in as far as 
it attempted to lighten a situation which 
Gadgey was treating rather tensely. 

“Well, then, how about all this busi- 
ness, anyhow?” he insisted. 

Demas hesitated a moment; he was 
thinking rapidly. 

“ The fact is, Tom, old man,” he said, 
“ I can’t let you in on this business — 
just now. Everything’s all right, but 
119 


THE END OF DREAMS 


— You see, somebody besides Vashti 
turned up at Cook’s last night; some- 
body I wasn’t looking for; and — well, 
I can’t go into the thing very clearly 
without mentioning names, and that 
wouldn’t be exactly the square thing to 
do because she — ” 

He stopped, and Gadgey walked 
over to the decanter more cheerfully, 
and took a drink. There is, among 
gamblers also, honor — of a kind. 

“All right, old chap, I guess I’m 
enough on,” he said; “ but you’d better 
skin your cards close and play slow.” 

Thus Demas knew that Gadgey un- 
derstood what he intended him to un- 
derstand, and that the incident was 
closed for the time, at least. 

“Well,” went on Gadgey, “if that’s 
all there is to it, I’m sorry I got rattled, 
and woke you up, but — ” 

120 


FROM BEHIND 


“ I’m not,” said Demas, grimly. 
“ I’d had plenty of it.” 

“What was it all about, anyhow. 
Tell me — ” 

Demas threw up his hands. 

“ Cut it out! ” he exclaimed. “ I’m 
trying to forget it.” 

“ Oh, all right. But you’d better lay 
low, and not go out in the bright light 
for a little while till things settle down. 
There’s too many people want a word 
with you. But there’s another thing I 
wanted to see you about. You’ve got 
to come back to the place, and help me 
look after things. There’s getting to 
be too much business for me by myself, 
and as Yash has to do the ornamental 
what time she is there she can’t help 
much. We want you badly. Come on 
back to-night, can’t you?” Gadgey 
took up his hat. 


121 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ Yes — I guess so. Yes, I’ll be there 
about the usual time. So long.” 

He stood still several minutes after 
Gadgey went out. Presently he 
laughed, not a cheerful laugh, but the 
strained laugh of a man who is, out of 
sheer bravado, defying the fate of which 
he is horribly afraid. Then he walked 
over to the bed, and taking a revolver 
from under the pillow, extracted an 
empty shell and replaced it with a 
loaded one. 

“ I’ll have to do better next time,” he 
muttered; “ for I’ve got to get him, or 
he’ll get me; and I’ve got to do it from 
behind.” 


122 


CHAPTER IX 
AFTER PROFITLESS YEARS 


| PNG and deep were the breaths 
that Demas Dayre drew as he 
stood by the open window of his room 
trying to rid himself of his weird ob- 
session. It bore upon him heavily, but 
not menacingly; and he was encouraged 
by the thought that he had awakened 
after something like six hours sleep, a 
shorter time than ever before when 
those dreams had come to him. The 
dreams themselves had lately begun to 
take on different forms, and he seemed 
to be making some headway in the 
struggle that had so long appeared to 
be impossible ; and beyond, in a brighter 
123 


THE END OF DREAMS 


light, had appeared the goal of triumph 
with its peace and rest. 

With a long deep filling of his lungs 
with the cool air fresh from the sun- 
light of the bright afternoon, he turned 
to the telephone, and ordered coffee — 
hot, strong and black. 

The cheer of hope that amounted al- 
most to confident expectation was in his 
mood as he finished dressing. There 
was to be an end to the curse which 
made him different from other men, 
and that end was to be the end he had 
so long striven for. 

Cheerfully he put away the anxieties 
that had so long possessed him. Now 
he was to see Beatrice Collamer, to hear 
her voice and her laugh, to feel the 
touch of her hand in his. He turned 
once more to her note which he had read 
on arising. 


124 


AFTER PROFITLESS YEARS 

“ Please come,” it said — no, she had 
not forgotten those better days when 
he, at least, was so much happier. She 
wanted to see him — but did she want to 
see him as much as he wanted to see her? 
He smiled a little as he shook his head. 
“No,” he thought, “that would be im- 
possible.” 

Not only did Mrs. Collamer spend 
the morning away from home, but she 
conceived the idea, possibly as a result 
of discreet suggestions from her daugh- 
ter, that a certain duty call could not be 
deferred later than that afternoon. 
Thus it was when Beatrice opened the 
door to admit Demas Dayre she was 
alone. For a fleeting second she looked 
at him keenly, anxiously. Before her 
was the same tall, erect figure she had 
seen when she unexpectedly turned on 
the lights in the dining room, and the 
125 


THE END OF DREAMS 

same features that her startled gaze had 
rested on when the mask had fallen, but 
— There was a difference which could 
be felt if it could not be seen, and she 
held out her hand to him in cordial wel- 
come. 

“1’m glad to see you, Demas,” she 
said, with that simplicity of confidence 
which asks no questions. 

“ And I’m more than glad to see you 
again, Beatie.” He did not release her 
hand at once, but held it while he looked 
into her eyes, which met his fully and 
frankly. Time, in a moment, harked 
back from his futile traversing of long, 
profitless years, and all was as it had 
been. 

She asked no explanations, but led 
the talk to the old college days with a 
zest that spoke only of pleasure in their 
recollection, and made them seem al- 
126 


AFTER PROFITLESS YEARS 

most as yesterday. And then, in time, 
she trod the more dangerous ground of 
nearer things, and told him of her life 
since they had parted; of the death of 
her father — the able lawyer and all 
round good fellow who provided so lib- 
erally for his family during his life that 
there was scant income after his death; 
of her work as a decorator of china; 
and of the simple and uneventful life 
led by her mother and herself, quite 
contentedly. 

“And you have succeeded ?” she 
asked. 

“No,” he said, smiling cheerfully; 
“ I have failed utterly, so far.” 

She raised her brows a little at the 
words which were so contradicted by 
the smile. 

“Yes,” he went on. “I have done 
nothing in all the years since we left 
127 


THE END OF DREAMS 


college but fix myself so I could live a 
lazy life which has a good many lonely 
spots in it.” 

“ But there has been nothing in it 
that you are — ” She stopped; 
“ ashamed of,” she was going to say, 
but the thought of the marauder in the 
dining room checked her, and she fin- 
ished hesitatingly — “ regret?” 

“Nothing, except that it has been — 
nothing. It is too blank for greater 
regrets. But now I hope to make it 
fuller of realities. Tell me about the — 
burglar.” 

It was the first mention of the inci- 
dent that had been in the undercurrent 
of the thoughts of both of them, and a 
thrill growing out of the very mystery 
of the thing passed through her. All 
her lightness and much of her serenity 
fell away, as she faced the unexplain- 
128 


AFTER PROFITLESS YEARS 


able, but she faced it bravely, and told 
the story in all of its detail. 

“ Demas,” she said, earnestly, “ there 
is something about it all that I can’t 
understand, and I suppose I never shall 
understand. Truly, it seemed to break 
my heart to tell that detective that it 
was Demas Dayre I saw in the dining 
room that night, but — Demas,” her 
tone was tenser now, “ when the light 
flashed up, and he turned to face me, he 
cried out in the strangest voice, ‘Bea- 
tie! ’ . . . No one ” — her tone now 

was almost that of one pleading for- 
giveness for a fault — “no one ever 
called me ‘ Beatie ’ but you, Demas. 
And then when his mask slipped off 
right there in the glare of the light, it 
was you , Demas, you — the face, the 
figure, the voice — How could I — ” 
She stopped and put her clenched fists 

129 


THE END OF DREAMS 


to her eyes for a moment. “But I 
know it was not you! Who was it? ” 

Her final words rose almost to a cry, 
and in the question was the pathos of 
one who calls for aid in her disbelief. 
For a moment she gazed at him appeal- 
ingly, and then her face sank to her arm 
which rested on the table beside her. 

Demas moved quickly to her side, 
and took her hand. 

“ Beatie,” he said, in a low tone, “ I 
am going to ask you to trust me a great 
deal in this. You might, by your testi- 
mony, put me in prison to-morrow, 
but— ” 

A quiver ran through her body as if 
she had been hurt, and her head, still 
resting on her arms, shook protestingly. 

“No, Beatie,” he went on, “ I know 
you’ll not do that, buF — Will you trust 
me? I know who the thief was, but I 
130 


AFTER PROFITLESS YEARS 

cannot tell you — now. Some day I’ll 
find him. Some day we’ll meet face to 
face, and then — ” 

There was the sound of the opening 
and closing of a door, and Demas re- 
sumed his seat. Beatrice raised her 
head, and, with nervous hands, touched 
her hair here and there. A moment 
later Mrs. Collamer entered the room. 

“Mama,” said Beatrice, rising, and 
speaking in quite her usual voice, “ this 
is the Demas Dayre who did not break 
into our dining room the other night. 
You remember him, of course?” 

Mrs. Collamer adjusted her nose 
glasses, and threw her head back. 

“ Why, bless my soul, Mr. Dayre, of 
course ! ” she exclaimed. “ The way 
Beatrice acted about that was just too 
silly for anything. How could it have 
been you when it was just a burglar? 

131 


THE END OF DREAMS 

I told Beatrice plainly that she was 
crazy, and then she didn’t say a word, 
but just cried and cried, as if her heart 
would break.” 

Beatrice’s color rose a trifle at this 
revelation, but her mother didn’t notice 
it. 

“ Just as if you could possibly have 
— Why, of course!” And Mrs. Colla- 
mer sat down convinced that she had 
presented irrefutable evidence. 

“ Well,” said Demas, “ I have no feel- 
ing against Beatrice, even if she did 
manage to have me arrested — ” 

“Arrested? ” 

“Yes; the detective got me quickly 
enough, but I established an alibi, 
and — ” 

“Of course! How nice!” 

“ One of the things I really came to 
this city for was to see if I couldn’t 
132 


after profitless years 

manage somehow to clear up the mys- 
tery. I haven’t had much success so 
far, but haven’t given up hope, and shall 
keep at it.” 

“Yes, indeed! Why, a man like 
that ought to be arrested for looking 
like you — or anybody else for that mat- 
ter.” Mrs. Collamer was always just. 
“Well, well, it’s a very mysterious af- 
fair; and I’m just all tired out, so if 
you don’t mind I think I’ll lie down*a 
little while before dinner.” And Mrs. 
Collamer took herself out of the room 
with the comfortable feeling that she 
had observed all the social amenities 
very successfully. 

As Demas dropped his eyes from 
bowing her out, they fell on a smartly 
engraved card that lay on the table. 
His brows knotted and his jaws tight- 
ened as he picked up and read it. It 
133 


THE END OE DREAMS 

announced that Vashti Garwood, cou- 
tqriere, importer and creator of exclu- 
sive gowns, was prepared to show the 
latest and most fashionable fabrics, do- 
mestic and foreign, and to take a lim- 
ited number of orders for artistic ef- 
fects. Demas looked up curiously. 

“ Is this your favorite couturiere, 
Beatie? ” he asked, with perhaps a trace 
of anxiety in his voice. 

“ I never heard of her till I got that 
card by mail; but for all that she might 
be ever so fashionable. I never really 
know who is and who isn’t.” 

“ Then you won’t accept her alluring 
invitation to patronize her?” 

“ Hardly! You see, I make most of 
my own. If she knew my possibilities 
I don’t think she would even care to 
have me call and examine her off erings. 
She has either made a mistake, or some 
1 34 , 


AFTER PROFITLESS YEARS 

one has been playing a joke on her.” 

Demas’s laugh, as he laid down the 
card, had a note of relief in it; but he 
made a careful mental note of Vashti 
Garwood’s address. 

It was with a good deal of satisfac- 
tion that Demas listened to Forbush’s 
apologetic explanation that he could 
not be with him that evening, on ac- 
count of an unexpected but highly im- 
portant business engagement. He had 
other plans that he felt he could best 
carry out by himself. 

So at eight o’clock he left the hotel 
alone with the feeling that the night 
was full of possibilities. And yet the 
cabman he discovered dozing on his box 
just around the corner in the quieter 
side street, was a harmless looking indi- 
vidual. 


135 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ Do you know where 437 Duane 
street is?” asked Demas. 

The cabman grinned broadly and 
then chuckled. 

“ You’re al’ys havin’ your joke, ain’t 
you, Mr. Dayre? ” he said, with the re- 
spectful familiarity that is befitting to 
a good customer. “Does One-Eyed 
John know where — ” He broke into 
another chuckle. 

Demas looked at the man in surprise, 
both on account of the recognition, and 
the name the man had given himself. 
It was clear from the light shed by the 
arc lamp at the corner that he not only 
had two eyes, but that, though they 
were small and piggish, both were in 
excellent working order, and not with- 
out a suggestion of shrewdness mixed 
with a liberal tolerance for the whims 
of that part of the world which is wil- 
136 


AFTER PROFITLESS YEARS 

ling to pay cab fares. Nevertheless, 
One-Eyed John was the name that most 
people called him, as a result of his 
frequently made declaration that one 
eye was all a man needed to see all that 
was good for him in his business. 

“ All right,” said Demas, “ take me 
there.” 

“Private entrance, sir?” The man 
spoke as if he knew what was expected 
of him. 

Demas paused with his foot on the 
cab step. 

“Well, no,” he said, slowly; “just 
drive by in front of the place to the next 
corner, and I’ll make up my mind by 
that time whether I want to go in or 
not.” 

As the sleepy looking bay jogged 
along in and out of the glare of corner 
lights, Demas’s thoughts easily passed 
137 


THE END OF DREAMS 


the cadence of the hoof beats. Who 
was Vashti Garwood? What had she 
to do with Demas Dayre? That she 
was a mere dressmaker, however fash- 
ionable and prosperous, he could not be- 
lieve. 

“There’s something more to that 
place than that,” he thought, as he 
looked out sharply for such house num- 
bers as he 'could discover. 

When they had reached the 400 block 
in Duane street, Demas pushed up the 
trap and ordered the driver to walk his 
horse. Number 437 presented an emi- 
nently respectable exterior. The num- 
ber on the transom was dimly illumi- 
nated, and light shone faintly through 
the hangings of the lower windows. 
Otherwise the place was dark, and 
silent. 


138 


CHAPTER X 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 


EMAS DAYRE looked at his 
watch. 

“ Five minutes of nine,” he said, as he 
set his demi-tasse on the taboret at his 
side and dropped his cigarette in it. 

“ Cheer up,” chuckled Gadgey. 
“ People will soon be coming along to 
leave their money with us. This plant 
is one of the best we ever run, and per- 
fectly respectable, too. By jingo, it’s 
more’n respectable!” he exclaimed, as 
he looked around at the luxurious fur- 
nishings of the reception room where 
they were taking their after dinner cof- 
fee. “ It’s nothin’ less’n swell.” 

In one corner of the room was the 
139 


THE END OF DREAMS 


highly ornate metal grill work guard- 
ing the elevator shaft which extended 
to the hall of the private entrance three 
floors below. In the wall toward the 
front was the broad arched sliding door, 
with draped back curtains, which gave 
on a long and brilliantly lighted room, 
rich in opportunities for wooing for- 
tune clandestinely — and being jilted. 
At the back were windows with heavy 
hangings through which no ray of light 
could penetrate. On one side was an 
alcove almost filled with a richly up- 
holstered couch, and opposite, near the 
elevator shaft, was a door into the hall 
which led to the stairway and the front 
part of the house. 

“ I suppose your discreet footman is 
on duty by this time all right, Vashti? ” 
said Demas. 

Vashti Garwood, lounging in the 
140 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 


luxurious depths of a big Turkish chair, 
laid down an illustrated paper, and 
looked up. Evening dress, in its elabo- 
rate simplicity, added, if anything, to 
her beauty ; her hair and eyes were mid- 
night, her cheeks the early dawn, and 
her neck and shoulders the dazzling 
whiteness of the arctic day. 

“Why, of course,” she said, tossing 
her cigarette into an ash tray. “ You’re 
getting awful nervous lately, Demie.” 

“ Merely discreet.” He laughed a 
little — but not carelessly. 

“Well, just to satisfy you,” she said, 
“I’ll try him.” She moved languidly 
across the room, and swinging open 
what appeared to be a panel in the wall, 
disclosed a telephone booth. Touching 
a button, she placed the receiver to her 
ear. 

“Hello!” came a voice that was 


141 


THE END OF DREAMS 


clearly audible even to the two men 
where they sat. 

“Everything all right, Antoine ?” 
she asked. 

“ Yes, Miss Garwood, thank you; but 
no arrivals as yet.” 

“Of course not,” she exclaimed, as 
she hung up the receiver. “Nobody 
ever gets here till ten o’clock or later. 
But that satisfies you, I hope, Demie.” 

“All but the telephone,” he replied, 
“ I could hear it plainly even here.” 

“ So could I,” said Gadgey. “ I like 
a good telephone all right, but that one’s 
too good. It talks too loud. Better 
have it changed. We might not want 
everybody in the shop to hear what the 
man at the other end was saying some- 
times.” 

Vashti laughed. 

“ Both of you seem to be pretty hard 
142 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 

to please to-night,” she said. “ But 
don’t worry. When things get to go- 
ing here nobody ever hears such a little 
voice as comes out of a telephone.” She 
swung the panel back into place, and 
returning to her chair, lighted another 
cigarette. 

“ I suppose that’s so,” agreed Demas, 
rising, and taking a turn about the room 
uneasily; “but in this business we can’t 
be too — discreet; for the sake of our 
clientele as well as our own.” 

Gadgey looked at him thoughtfully. 

“ There’s no use talking, Demie,” he 
said, “you’re ’way to the bad in the 
nerves; and you have been ever since 
that fool trick of climbin’ that fire es- 
cape. Was it the climb in the dark, or 
was it the girl that jarred you? ” 

“ It wasn’t either,” retorted Demas, 
shortly. “ I’m all right.” 

143 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ Just the same, you’d better lay off, 
and take a hike into a nice quiet bunch 
of respectability somewhere — at some 
of the lake resorts, maybe — as soon as it 
gets a little warmer. It won’t do you 
no harm, will it, Vash? ” 

“No,” said Vashti, a little sarcasti- 
cally, “unless he’d happen to find that 
girl spending her vacation at the same 
place. Where did you say she worked, 
Demie? ” 

Demas turned shortly in his walk, 
and faced them. His face had hard- 
ened, and his eyes shone with a men- 
acing light. 

“ That’ll be plenty of that,” he said, 
coldly. “When I’ve got anything to 
tell, I’ll tell it. Till then we’ll let 
things stand as they are. Neither of 
you is losing anything — ” 

The telephone bell tinkled, and he 
144 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 


stopped. Vashti again swung open the 
panel, and took down the receiver. 

“ Hello !” she said. 

Again the voice, minimized in the 
transmission, but still audible all over 
the room, came through the receiver. 

“ Permit me to announce, Miss Gar- 
wood, Mr. Demas Dayre.” 

Vashti gasped, Gadgey half started 
from his chair, and Demas sank on a 
couch with his face gone white. 

“Who?” she demanded, with a thrill 
of something like apprehension in her 
voice. 

“Mr. Demas Dayre.” The name 
came clearly, distinctly and unmistak- 
ably. 

“Very well,” she said; “in five min- 
utes have him brought up.” She swung 
the panel shut, and, turning, looked for 
a moment at Demas without speaking. 

145 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“What’s the answer?” she said, at 
last. 

“I — I give it up,” he replied, jerk- 
ing his chin into the air nervously, as if 
his collar were choking him. 

“Well, if that don’t beat the devil!” 
exclaimed Gadgey, in a puzzled tone. 
“ Now there’s Antoine knows you as 
well as anybody, and here he’s sayin’ 
you’re cornin’ when you’re already 
here.” 

“ Have you a double? ” asked Vashti. 

“Not that I — I never saw him.” 

“And the prospect of seeing him 
doesn’t seem to cheer you up much, 
either, does it?” she said, as she looked 
at his white face. “ What are you go- 
ing to do?” 

Demas braced himself. 

“ I guess,” he said, in a tone that was 
held steady by sheer force of will, 
146 



PERMIT ME TO ANNOUNCE MR. DEMAS DAYRE. 


« 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 


“ we’d better play this game cautiously 
till we find what’s in it. It may be 
some kind of a joke or a fake or — or 
it may be something that will need more 
attention. I’ll just go to the rest room 
till you find out what’s in it.” He 
opened the door into the hall, and stood 
for a moment as if he would say some- 
thing more. Through the stillness 
came the metallic click of the elevator 
door sliding into place three floors be- 
low. 

“Let me know if I’m wanted,” he 
said, hurriedly, as he went out and 
closed the door behind him. 

For a moment the silence that fol- 
lowed his exit was only broken by the 
faint purr of the elevator cables. Vash- 
ti’s mind was made up quickly, and she 
spoke in a low tone, but rapidly. 

“ I’ll play this game by myself, Tom, 
147 


THE END OF DREAMS 

at the start, anyhow,” she said. “You 
go into the card room, and slide the 
door shut. It will be easy enough to 
make you hear when I want you.” 

Without a word, Gadgey stepped 
into the next room, and drew the door 
behind the curtains noiselessly. 

Yashti glanced hastily around the 
room. The couch was the best place. 
It was opposite the elevator where she 
could see best, and likewise be seen to 
the best advantage. Hastily she sank 
down on it in a half reclining position, 
and arranged her draperies gracefully. 
By the time the top of the elevator ap- 
peared through the grillwork she had 
established herself in an attitude of lux- 
urious indolence. 

The door of the elevator was shoved 
back with a snap, and the conductor, 
stepping out, announced: 

148 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 

“Mr. Demas Dayre.” 

Vashti, with a premonition of some- 
thing uncanny, had braced herself for 
all the possibilities, but that which came 
was almost too much even for her well 
disciplined nerves. Demas Dayre, 
whom she had seen go through the hall 
door five minutes before, now stepped 
from the elevator, and bowed before 
her. 

“I fear,” said Demas, “that I am 
earlier than I should be, but I am sure 
you will pardon me, for you know I 
am a stranger to the city and its ways.” 

Brief as the speech was, it gave Vashti 
a chance to recover herself, and she rose 
gracefully from the couch, and ex- 
tended her hand. 

“ My friends cannot come too early,” 
she said, cordially. “ Especially any 
friend who lent moral support in time 

m 


THE END OF DREAMS 


of need.” She spoke in a slightly un- 
certain manner, as if feeling her way. 
“ For I hope you have not forgotten 
that we have met before — elsewhere?” 

“That is why I am here,” said De- 
mas, “at the first opportunity. The 
first meeting served to make memorable 
an evening I should otherwise want to 
forget.” 

She raised her brows inquiringly 
for a moment, but did not follow the 
lead he had given. 

“ My house is open to you,” she said; 
“ and a little later I hope it will prove 
more entertaining. For the present let 
us sit down here,” she went on, leading 
the way to the alcove. “ I am sure we 
shall not be disturbed for half an hour, 
at least.” 

“Among my other reasons for call- 
ing this evening is to apologize for the 
150 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 


unceremonious way in which our dinner 
was interrupted last evening.” 

For a scant moment her eyes rounded 
large; then, with a slight catch of her 
breath, she smiled. 

“ Such mistakes are bound to happen 
to every one sometimes, I suppose,” she 
said. “ Remember my own embarrass- 
ing experience on another occasion. 
But I presume you had no further 
trouble when you had an opportunity to 
identify yourself?” 

“ None whatever. Nor was I any 
the worse for it. And though I can’t 
say that I like to be shot at, especially 
through the panel of a door, I’m rather 
glad it happened. I think I have 
learned something.” 

The smile had faded from her face, 
and there was a serious, wondering ex- 
pression in her eyes. During a mo- 
151 


THE END OF DREAMS 


ment of silence she looked down as if in 
deep study; then her curiosity tri- 
umphed. 

“Who are you?” she asked, raising 
her eyes until they met his fully. 

Having considered her opportunities 
for acquiring information since the 
evening before, Demas had been expect- 
ing some such question as this, but he 
had not thought it would be asked in so 
quiet, serious and direct a manner. He 
smiled at her evident perplexity as he 
answered. 

“Demas Dayre, of the Sycamore 
club,” he said; “an idler of scant im- 
portance; but for the time, at least, at 
your service.” 

“ Oh, yes,” she said, slowly, still look- 
ing at him curiously, “ I see.” 

“ Oh, no,” he returned, “ begging 
your pardon, but you don’t.” 

152 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 


For the silent moment that followed 
her gaze did not waver. 

“No,” she said, “I don’t. Tell 
me.” 

“ I can’t; for I don’t, either, exactly.” 
He gazed around the room with evident 
appreciation of its furnishings, and 
spoke in a lighter tone. “ You have a 
beautiful place here,” he added. 

The expression of her face changed. 
If it was his mood to dismiss for the 
time such a mystery, she was willing. 
There were other ways in which she 
might learn something for herself. 
The smile returned to her lips and the 
sparkle to her eyes, even, it seemed to 
Demas, with greater brilliancy than be- 
fore. 

“Yes,” she said, “I have tried to 
make it attractive. Beautiful sur- 
roundings, I think, add to one’s pleas- 
153 


THE END OF DREAMS 


ure, and ” — she spoke with a fine air of 
ingenuousness — “what adds to the 
pleasure of my guests, adds to my 
profit. Would you like to see some of 
the other rooms?” 

“Very much; especially if they are, 
as I have no doubt, as charmingly ap- 
pointed as this one.” 

She led the way to the hall, and 
turned toward the front of the house. 

“ Our rest room,” she said, “ is our 
real gem. There we have tried to at- 
tain the acme of luxurious and sooth- 
ing comfort.” 

In the dimmer light of the hallway, 
Demas thought he caught a new ex- 
pression in her eyes — the expression of 
one who ventures on an enterprise that 
is certainly doubtful and possibly dan- 
gerous. 

The light of the hall grew still dim- 
154 


THE FALLEN IMAGE 


mer as they proceeded till they stopped 
before the open door of a room that 
was dark. 

“ Just a moment,” she said, “ and I 
will turn on the light.” 

As she fumbled for the switch beside 
the casing there was the sound of the 
quick closing of a door in the opposite 
corner of the room, and she started with 
a suppressed exclamation. Then the 
light flooded the room, and Demas 
stepped in. On a luxuriously uphol- 
stered couch the indentation in the cush- 
ions marked recent occupancy, and the 
hangings in the door at the further cor- 
ner still swayed slightly. 

After a keen glance about the room 
Demas once more turned to find her 
staring with agitation at the swaying 
hangings. 

“ You have,” he said, “achieved a tri- 
155 


> THE END OF DREAMS 

umph in that rarest of all combinations 
— art, luxury and comfort.” 

She gazed at him without reply, 
seemingly without words for a reply. 
Then seeing her raise her hand to the 
electric switch, he stepped back into the 
hallway. As he did so something 
whizzed by his head from the dark end 
of the hall, struck the door jamb with a 
thud, and fell heavily at his feet. In 
the farther darkness there was the sound 
of hurrying footsteps, as if on a stair- 
way, followed by the slamming of a 
distant door. The hand Demas had 
thrown to his hip as he peered into the 
dark end of the hallway came back 
to his side, and he stooped and picked 
up a small bronze image of Buddha. 

“How fortunate,” he said, “that it 
is of solid metal. Otherwise the fall 
might have injured it.” 

156 


CHAPTER XI 


THE BURDEN OF FEAR 
ASHTI GARWOOD, couturiere, 



garbed in the artistic simplicity of 
the successful woman of business, sat 
at the desk in her office, idly but nerv- 
ously. Before her was a small bronze 
image of Buddha. Although it was 
two o’clock in the afternoon, she had 
the distraught air of one who has slept 
badly and risen late. She was paler 
than usual, and there were slight evi- 
dences of dark circles under her eyes. 
Twice she made a movement as if she 
would take the receiver from the tele- 
phone on her desk, but both times she 
sank back in her chair without doing 
so. 


157 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ No,” she half whispered; “ I’ll wait. 
He’s sure to come.” 

Half past two came, and she still 
waited. At three o’clock she rang for 
her assistant. She was not well enough 
to see customers that afternoon, she ex- 
plained, and would go to her own sitting 
room. With her she took the bronze 
image of Buddha. 

At half past three she lighted the 
lamp under the samovar, and sought 
the cheer of Blossom Pekoe and 
Oolong. At four she rose from her 
chair impatiently, fully determined to 
telephone, when a light tap sounded on 
the door. Quickly she sank back in 
her chair, and taking up the empty tea 
cup, composed herself. 

“ Come in,” she said. 

The evidences of disturbed rest and 
late rising were still more marked in 
158 


THE BURDEN OF FEAR 


the appearance of Demas Dayre as he 
came into the room and closed the door 
behind him. 

For a moment she eyed him sharply 
without speaking. Even then she was 
not sure. 

“Well?” she said, non-committally. 

He dropped into a chair. 

“I’ll have a drink first, Vashti, I 
guess,” he said. 

It was a silent sigh of relief she 
breathed as she filled a glass from the 
decanter. She knew now. 

“ Well? ” she again demanded, more 
confidently. 

He set the empty glass on the table. 

“Well,” he repeated. “What?” 

She picked up the bronze image of 
Buddha. 

“ What made you throw this last 
night? ” 


1.19 


THE END OF DREAMS 


“What makes you think I threw 
it?” he asked. 

“ Because no one else could, or 
would.” She spoke accusingly, and 
with absolute confidence. 

His pretence of a yawn was not con- 
vincing. 

“ You’ve been dreaming,” he said. 

“ No, I haven’t been dreaming. You 
threw this image at the man who stood 
by me in the door of the rest room last 
night, and then ” — her voice took on a 
strong tinge of sarcasm — “ran. You 
shot at the same man through the panel 
of the door at Cook’s. Why?” Her 
tone was certain and relentless. 

He made no further attempt to deny 
the acts. 

“ Maybe I was jealous,” he said, 
nervously. 

She jerked her head impatiently. 

160 


THE BURDEN OF FEAR 

“ Why? ” she repeated, with her eyes 
fixed compellingly on him. 

He fidgeted under her gaze, but was 
silent. Then he seemed to sink into 
thought. The clock on the mantel 
tinkled forth the chime that indicated a 
quarter after four. 

“Why?” she repeated again, with 
immovable eyes. 

He drew a long breath. 

“ Well,” he said, half defiantly, “ he 
looks too much like me. It’s liable to 
cause confusion, and get me into 
trouble.” 

“Oh! ” she scoffed. Then, as he did 
not speak, she added: “Don’t you 
think that, take it all around, it will be 
better for you to tell me the truth? 
I’ve seen enough to know there’s some- 
thing queer in this business. You know 
me well enough to know that you won’t 
161 


THE END OF DREAMS 

be any worse off for telling me, and it 
may turn out that you’ll be a whole lot 
better off for putting me into a posi- 
tion to act, if necessary, understand- 
ing^. I’ve never gone back on a 
friend yet.” 

“No,” he said, “you haven’t. But 
— but I can’t tell you because — because 
I don’t know, myself.” 

She stared at him in amazement. 

“Don’t know!” she exclaimed. 
“Don’t know why it is you want to 
kill—” 

“No!” he interrupted harshly, and 
with enough excitement to make the 
hand he extended toward her tremble. 
“ I don’t know, except I’ve got to kill 
that man, and the sooner I do it the bet- 
ter.” 

Again came the relentless question. 

“Why?” Then realizing the futil- 
162 


THE BURDEN OF FEAR 

ity of it, she added: “What makes 
you feel that way? ” 

“Why? Because I have to! I’ve 
either got to kill him, or — ” He 
stopped with a shudder. 

“ Or what? ” 

He did not answer, but sat with his 
face in his hands, and she regarded him 
with a doubtful look. Was his mind — 
Surely up to the last few days he had 
been as always. She tried again. 

“What has he done to you?” she 
asked in low, measured words, striving 
by her own calmness to quiet him. 

“Nothing — yet.” There was a long 
pause between the words. 

“ Then what do you expect him to 
do?” 

“ I — I don’t know,” he answered re- 
luctantly. 

“Where did you first see him?” 

163 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ I never saw him! ” 

“ What ! ” 

“If ever I meet him face to face it 
will be the last of — ” His face, which 
he had raised, again sank into his hands, 
and his words ended with a quick catch- 
ing of the breath. 

For a few moments she sat watching 
him in silent wonder. Was it an idio- 
syncrasy, an hallucination, an obses- 
sion? Again she filled the glass from 
the decanter, and offered it to him. 

“Drink this,” she said. “You need 
it.” 

He tossed it off without a word, and 
again buried his face in his hands. 

Another long pause followed, dur- 
ing which she decided on her attitude 
toward his unfathomable mood. 

“Look here, Demie,” she said, ear- 
nestly, “you’ve got to brace up. A 
164 


THE BURDEN OF FEAR 

few days of this sort of thing will put 
you so far to the bad that you’ll never 
get back. So be reasonable. People 
don’t cast spells in these days. This is 
a civilized age when most things are 
known, and nobody is afraid of them. 
Why, that man doesn’t even live here, 
and will probably be going home in a 
day or two, and — ” 

“ He left this morning with the 
friend who got him out of the police 
station. I had him watched after last 
night.” 

“ So much the better! You’ll prob- 
ably never see him, or even hear of him 
again.” 

He laughed a little, and harshly. 

“ Won’t I? ” he exclaimed. “ You’ll 
see. I’ll hear from him again, and I’ll 
see him. He’ll hunt me down till some 
day we meet face to face, and then — ” 
165 


THE END OF DREAMS 


He paused, and laughed again harshly 
— the liquor had warmed him. “ Oh, 
well, what’s the difference? It can’t be 
but once.” 

Her face cleared a little. 

“ Now you’re doing better,” she said; 
“ a little more of that, and you’ll be up 
to concert pitch again, and will laugh at 
all this foolishness.” 

“ Maybe,” he agreed, as he rose to 
fill the glass again from the decanter. 

There was a knock at the door, and 
when Vashti opened it a letter was 
handed to her. Unceremoniously she 
opened it, and read : 

Dear Miss Garwood: 

I had hoped to see you again before I left 
the city, but I find that it is impossible. I feel 
so sure that you can throw some light on a 
subject in which I am int'erested that I shall 
return before long to talk it over with you if I 
166 


THE BURDEN OF FEAR 


may. A note in care of the Sycamore Club 
will reach me promptly, and I shall be very 
glad to hear from you, in the meantime, con- 
cerning this subject if there is anything you 
care to write. 

Sincerely yours, 

Demas Dayre. 

“ What is it? ” he asked. He had sat 
down again, and his face was resuming 
its normal expression. 

She caught her breath, and flushed a 
little. 

“ Oh, nothing,” she replied, hur- 
riedly trying to thrust the note back 
into the envelope; but her fingers trem- 
bled, she fumbled it, and the envelope 
fluttered to the floor with the super- 
scription up. 

“So?” he exclaimed, springing for- 
ward, and picking it up. His eyes 
spread with wonder as he looked at it. 

167 


THE END OF DREAMS 


The handwriting might have been his 
own. “ Let me see that note, Vashti,” 
he commanded, almost roughly. 

“ It’s none of your business.” 

“Will you let me see that note?” 
There was a sternness in his tone that 
alarmed her, and she was not easily 
alarmed; but she answered boldly. 

“No!” she said, holding the paper 
behind her. 

“ Look here, Vashti ” — he spoke with 
cold determination — “ I don’t want to 
be harsh or rough with you, but I’m go- 
ing to see that note. This is the last 
time I’m going to ask you. Will you 
let me see it? ” 

“ No!” 

With a quick movement he whirled 
her around, and snatched the note from 
her hand. Holding her away from him 
with one hand, he raised the note with 
168 


THE BURDEN OF FEAR 

the other, and read it. His face paled 
again, but he held himself well under 
control. 

“ Thank you,” he said, as he handed it 
back to her. His voice was strangely 
strained, and ended in a harsh laugh. 
“You see I am likely to meet him again, 
after all. And if I do, Vashti — Well, 
if the worst comes to the worst, my 
friends won’t have to go to the trouble 
and expense of burying me.” 

Without another word he picked up 
his hat and stick, and left the room. 


169 


CHAPTER XII 
THE FLAME OF HOPE 

gINCE Demas Dayre had slipped 
the leash of college authority, and 
taken up the life of a hunter who thinks 
that all game is fair, he had given scant 
thought to the might-have-been. Such 
desirable part of the world’s goods as 
he could get, in one way or another, he 
had considered as only his rightful 
share. Sometimes his desires were 
easily gratified, and sometimes their 
gratification required the nicest skill 
and was attended by great personal 
risk, but there was to him a zest in the 
achievement that made even the game 
itself worth the candle. 


170 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 

In the glare of such a present as he 
had lived, the past had faded to an un- 
discernible dimness that caused it al- 
most to be forgotten. But when, rec- 
ognizing Beatrice Collamer, he had 
dropped his loot, and, as he turned 
to fly, his burglar's mask had slipped 
from his face, the memory of other days 
surged back over him almost over- 
whelmingly. And when he had found 
safety in flight to his own apartments 
he sat there alone, and, for the first 
time, compared what was with what 
might have been; not with remorse, or 
even regret, but wonderingly. 

It was a strange tangent that the 
course of his life had taken, yet he did 
not see how it could have been other- 
wise. The fixed and narrow limits of 
conventionality were not for him; and, 
as he looked back now on the restraints 
171 


THE END OF DREAMS 


he faced when he was entering man- 
hood, he almost understood the change 
which made him what he was. In all 
of the last decade only the dreams that 
came to him had distressed him; and 
these at first caused irritation rather 
than distress, a rebellious feeling that 
his rest should be so unreasonably dis- 
turbed. But as these dreams grew in 
frequency and vividness, and with each 
recurrence seemed to point more relent- 
lessly to the inevitable, the horror 
gained upon him until he lay down with 
fear and rose, when they had not come, 
with all the thankfulness that was in 
his nature. 

And now to this horror, which had 
increased almost beyond the limit of 
his endurance, was added the burden of 
memory. Beatrice Collamer! When 
he repeated her name to himself, her 
172 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 


anguished face, as she screamed his 
name, rose up and haunted him, and, 
for the first time, he was ashamed — 
not ashamed of what he was, but that 
she knew what he was. 

Beatie! He uttered the diminutive 
tenderly to himself, and shrank again, 
smitten by the unseeing look in her eyes 
as she passed him that morning. And 
yet, knowing what she knew, she had, 
he was confident, taken no further step 
to put the law on his trail. Perhaps — 
and the thought warmed him! — the 
memory of old days came tenderly to 
her also. And why not? 

Why not ? The cry rang through his 
mind from day to day drowning the 
voice of his riskily achieved and dearly 
paid for worldly wisdom. 

Why not? He was a man the world 
must reckon with; a successful man in 
173 


THE END OF DREAMS 

the way he had chosen. He could give 
her all that any woman might ask. 

He cringed at the thought of her 
association with his companions; but 
that was not necessary; she need never 
know them, or know of them. There 
would be a home elsewhere where he 
could go to rest in quiet, and to forget 
those dreams — a shudder ran through 
him. But could those dreams be forgot- 
ten even in such a home, and how long 
would such a home last for him? He 
set his teeth. F or three nights now the 
dreams had not come. He would free 
himself from them. By his own will 
he would break the spell. Vashti was 
right. This was no day of mystery. 
The thing was foolish. He would con- 
quer it. There was one way, one cer- 
tain way — He never went out unarmed. 

And he went often, and recklessly, 
174 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 

as it seemed to the more cautious Tom 
Gadgey. 

“ It’s a fool thing to do, Demie,” he 
protested. “ What’s the use of lookin’ 
for trouble? You know Holtsclaw 
wants you, and he’ll get you, too, one 
o’ these days the way you’re doin’.” 

“ Don’t worry, Tom. The job was 
too small for Holtsclaw to get much 
excited about, and he’s probably 
dumped it by this time.” 

But Gadgey shook his head. He 
was helpless, he knew, to influence 
Demas, and he was worried. He would 
have been still more worried if he had 
known of the visitor at whom the bronze 
image of Buddha had been thrown ; but 
the closed door in the archway had left 
him undisturbed, and he readily ac- 
cepted Vashti’s explanation of An- 
toine’s announcement as a little joke 
175 


THE END OF DREAMS 

undertaken by one of their frequent 
visitors. 

Meantime, there had been no further 
mention of the subject by either her or 
Demas; and while she had declared to 
him that the days of mystery were past, 
she was not so sure, in her own mind, 
that this was so. She, too, was dis- 
turbed by Demas’s movements, not so 
much by fear of his arrest by Holts- 
claw, as that he might meet with the 
other some day, and find himself in a 
prison cell with the charge of murder 
against him. For she did not make 
light of his declaration of his intention. 
She had known him a good while, and 
she knew that when he spoke in that 
way he meant it. To his own fears she 
knew it was useless to appeal, so she 
tried another way. 

“If you’re not careful how you show 
176 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 

yourself around town,” she said, “ some- 
thing will happen to you that will get 
us all in trouble.” 

“I never got any of my friends in 
trouble yet, did I?” he demanded. 

“ No.” 

“ Well, I’ll not begin with you and 
Tom. I may get into trouble myself, 
but — that’s my business. Don’t you 
worry, Vashti; I know what I’m about.” 

“Maybe you do, but you don’t act 
like it. I wish you’d keep under cover 
better.” 

Demas only laughed, and continued 
to go about as before. But his move- 
ments were more discreet than they 
seemed to be. He did not go near his 
usual haunts ; Cook’s knew him no more. 
On the contrary, his wanderings took 
him into neighborhoods and places that 
were too respectable and well behaved 
177 


THE END OF DREAMS 

to be vigilantly policed. One-Eyed 
John’s cab carried him slowly past the 
Mirador apartments at various hours of 
the morning, afternoon and evening; 
but that discreet jehu curbed his un- 
usual wonder with discreet silence. The 
fare was liberally forthcoming, and 
that was all that concerned him. 

From a remote corner in the quiet 
reading room of the public library De- 
mas, looking over the top of his book, 
watched the crowds come and go for 
hours at a time. Through the rooms 
of the art museum he strolled with his 
best air of elegant leisure, and watched 
the shifting visitors as he moved from 
picture to picture. And here it was 
that his search was finally rewarded. 

It was just after the doors had 
opened in the morning, and too early 
for more than an occasional visitor. As 
178 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 


he stepped into the Dutch room, and 
gazed quickly and keenly about, as was 
his habit, he stopped and stood still a 
moment while he took the long breath 
that tells of a task accomplished. 

In the corner of the room farthest 
from the entrance she was seated be- 
fore a study of tulips and hyacinths 
making sketches of the flowers for use 
in her own work. 

So silently he crossed the room she 
did not notice his presence until he 
spoke to her. 

“ Good morning, Beatie,” he said, 
quietly. 

At the sound of his voice she turned 
quickly toward him with a smile of glad 
surprise. Then, before she had uttered 
the greeting that had risen to her lips, 
her smile faded and her eyes rounded 
with apprehension. 

179 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ Don’t be afraid, Beatie,” he said, 
reassuringly. “ I just want to talk 
to you a little ; to explain something.” 

She glanced about her. They were 
alone in the room. 

“Who are you?” she asked, tensely. 

He looked at her in surprise. 

“Why, don’t you know me?” he ex- 
claimed, in a hurt tone. “ I didn’t sup- 
pose you would forget me, even in ten 
years, after — I’m Demas Dayre, don’t 
you remember? ” 

For a long moment she looked 
straight at him without speaking. 
Should she call for help, and denounce 
him to the police? Her first inclination 
was to do so; then the courage of her 
love came to her. Before her stood the 
mysterious man of the black mask, the 
man who had usurped Demas Dayre’s 
name, figure, face and even voice; the 
180 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 

man who, she intuitively felt, menaced 
Demas Dayre’s welfare, happiness and 
perhaps life. She crushed down her 
rising fears. Perhaps this was an op- 
portunity for her to help raise the unex- 
plained burden which she knew Demas 
was carrying. 

“You are not Demas Dayre!” she 
said, in a low tone. 

He laughed a little, and sat down in 
a chair near her. 

“I didn’t know I had changed so 
much,” he said, lightly. “But I can 
identify myself in half a minute. Don’t 
you remember how I was hit with a 
baseball at college, and was unconscious 
for nearly a week ; and how you used to 
come to see me, and bring me flowers 
when I got better? And don’t you re- 
member all the good times we had be- 
fore that? How we talked of what life 


181 


THE END OF DREAMS 

really was, and what we should do with 
it? The world didn’t seem very big or 
hard to get along with in those days, 
Beatie.” 

She stared at him in speechless amaze- 
ment. Who was this man who spoke 
in such a familiar tone of the past hap- 
penings in Demas Dayre’s life, and its 
associations with her own? Her heart 
pounded fiercely in her breast, and she 
breathed rapidly. 

“Who are you?” she again de- 
manded, almost gasping. 

He shut his eyes tightly and drew 
down the corners of his mouth in the 
comical grimace she had so often 
laughed at in the old college days. 

“ You seem to have such a bad mem- 
ory,” he said, in indulgent complaint, 
“that I suppose I shall have to begin 
and make your acquaintance all over 
182 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 

again. But you’ll help me, won’t you, 
just to save time? ” 

The smile that he hoped to evoke did 
not soften her lips, and her face now 
was set, almost stern. 

“You are the thief who broke 
into our flat that night,” she de- 
clared, accusingly. “Thief I” she re- 
peated. 

He threw up his hand in a gesture of 
protest. 

“Don’t use such a word, Beatie,” 
he exclaimed, earnestly. “It isn’t — 
pretty. That’s just what I wanted to 
explain to you. Of course it’s natural 
that you should feel hard toward me 
after that because you don’t under- 
stand. I couldn’t stop and explain 
then, you know; and, besides, at the 
sight of you, I was so — so — rattled 
that I really didn’t know what I was 
doing.” 


183 


THE END OF DREAMS 

He paused momentarily in the hope 
of some expression of sympathetic curi- 
osity from her. There was none. Of 
interest her face showed no lack; but it 
was not sympathetic interest. 

“ You see the whole thing was a mis- 
take, a fearful mistake on my part,” 
he went on, fluently — had he not re- 
hearsed this explanation many times? — 
“ It was all the result of a bet, a foolish 
bet I’ll admit, but I undertook it. It 
was this way: A friend of mine has 
a man who takes charge of his apart- 
ments and does everything for him. 
He trusts everything in this man’s 
charge, and boasts that he is a regular 
watch dog. I got so tired hearing him 
talk of this paragon that I bet him I 
could steal something out of his rooms 
right under the man’s very nose. And 
that was what I undertook to do. But 
184 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 

I was not familiar with that part of 
town, and became confused, partly, no 
doubt, from the excitement attending 
such a strange adventure. The result 
was that I picked out the wrong apart- 
ment house, and my little excursion into 
the burglary business landed me in your 
flat.” 

He leaned back in his chair as he con- 
cluded the explanation with the depre- 
cating smile of one who feels he has ac- 
quitted himself too thoroughly to be 
the victim of further enmity. 

Still there was no relaxation in the 
severity of her expression. Still her 
heart thumped and her pulses raced, 
while the difficulty she had in breathing 
almost made her pant. The situation 
was intolerable. She gathered up her 
sketching materials nervously, and rose, 
steadying herself with her hand on the 
185 


THE END OF DREAMS 

back of her chair. With a great eff ort 
she controlled her voice. 

“You are lying !” she said, looking 
him squarely in the eye. 

“Beatie!” he exclaimed, his voice al- 
most trembling. “ How can you — how 
can you say that to me after — after all 
that we were to each other in the old 
college days?” He rose, and tried to 
take her hand, but she drew it quickly 
away. 

“Go away!” she exclaimed. “I — I 
can’t stand this any longer. I must 
go!” She turned from him, and 
started toward the door. 

“ But, Beatie,” he insisted, stepping 
quickly to her side, “you must believe 
me ! Don’t condemn me without a 
thought. When can I see you again? ” 

She stopped as if half dazed by a new 
thought, a new possibility which she 
186 


THE FLAME OF HOPE 

hardly felt the courage to face, and he 
stepped between her and the door. 

“ I — I don't know,” she said. 

“ Here,” he quickly wrote an address, 
without his name, on a leaf torn from 
his notebook, and thrust it into her 
hand. “Write me to that address 
when and where I can see you; and, 
Beatie, let me know soon. I must see 
you, and make you believe me.” 

She clutched the scrap of paper in her 
hand nervously. 

“ Let me go ! ” she cried. 

He stepped aside, and, raising his 
hat, watched her with troubled eyes as 
she passed out of the room. 


187 


CHAPTER XIII 


AT THE ANCHORET 

Jyj' EVER had a letter been more wel- 
come to Demas Dayre, and never 
had he read one more carefully, but 
there was one paragraph in it standing 
out so conspicuously from the rest that 
he returned to it time after time. Near 
the end she had written: 

I should like very much to have you come 
here again as soon as you can make it con- 
venient. There are some things I want to talk 
to you about that I don’t feel as if I could 
write — they are too uncanny. I have seen the 
man who broke into our flat that night, and have 
talked to him. Don’t be alarmed about this 
because I am sure I have nothing to fear from 
him, but — it was all very strange. I don’t un- 
stand it. Perhaps you will. 

188 


AT THE ANCHORET 

The next afternoon he sat in the Col- 
lamer apartment at the Mirador, and 
listened to the story of the meeting at 
the art museum — listened thoughtfully 
and anxiously, and yet as if he under- 
stood, in a way, how such a thing could 
be. 

“ But what is it, Demas?” she ex- 
claimed, earnestly. “ What is it?” 

“ Were you afraid of him? ” he asked, 
passing the question. 

“No-o-o — that is, not afraid he 
would hurt me, but — I was afraid — of 
something — I don’t know what. There 
was something awful about it. He 
looked like you, and talked like you. 
and knew of the old days at college, 
and yet I knew that he wasn’t you. I 
felt it just as soon as I had looked at 
him. Who is he?” 

For a moment he did not answer. 

189 


THE END OF DREAMS 


What could he say? The testimony of 
dreams is too unreasonable for serious 
consideration. 

“Let me have the address he gave 
you,” he said, finally, “and I’ll try to 
find out.” 

“ Demas ! ” her voice rose with anxi- 
ety. “You must not do that. He is 
a thief, a criminal! He might — ” 

“ You met him, and talked to him, 
and— ” 

“ Oh, that was diff erent ! It was in 
a public place, and — I am a woman — 
No man would — ” 

Demas smiled. 

“Your confidence is flattering, Bea- 
tie,” he said, “but — don’t be too confi- 
dent. Some men would — do any- 
thing.” 

“ But it will be dangerous.” 

“ So is everything.” He spoke 
190 


AT THE ANCHORET 

lightly. “ It’s dangerous to ride on the 
cars, dangerous even to cross the street; 
and I don’t think it will be any more 
dangerous — to me. I have a good deal 
of confidence in the discrimination of 
Providence.” 

“ But—” 

“ Oh, come now, Beatie, you take this 
thing too seriously.” His tone grew 
still lighter. “ It’s very queer, of 
course ; but there ought to be some kind 
of an explanation. I don’t suppose 
there is anybody in the world but that 
has a double some place. The peculiar 
thing about this is that we are almost 
close enough together for comparison; 
and yet, no doubt if we stood side by 
side you’d notice so many differences 
that — ” 

“No,” she declared, decidedly; “you 
are the same except — ” 

m 


THE END OF DREAMS 


“ Except what? ” 

“There is something — something in 
— in the personality that is diff erent. I 
— didn’t see it; I felt it.” 

Demas laughed. His whole idea was 
to turn her thoughts from the awesome 
mystery of the thing, and to relieve her 
of her fear of it. Her peace of mind 
was quite as important to him as any- 
thing else. 

“ Well then,” he said, “ give me a 
chance to feel it. I imagine it will be 
rather interesting for both my double 
and myself.” It was with a conscious 
effort that he kept his tone from grim- 
ness as he said this. 

Reluctantly she got the crumpled 
paper and handed it to him. As he ex- 
amined it closely he almost started. 
There was not the slightest difference. 
It had the same swinging strokes, the 
192 


AT THE ANCHORET 

same peculiar formation of letters — He 
might have written it himself. 

It was after eleven o’clock the next 
morning when Demas found the street 
number that had been written on that 
crumpled piece of paper. The build- 
ing, tall and narrow, was devoted to 
bachelor apartments, and the hallway 
of its entrance gave evidence that it was 
well kept. Of those who had apart- 
ments there the rent was collected in 
advance, and no questions were asked 
as long as that rent was forthcoming 
and a reasonable degree of quiet main- 
tained. Its tenants were all well 
dressed, albeit some of them wore rather 
extreme styles and perhaps brighter 
colors than were entirely approved by 
the prevailing mode. Cut into the 
stone arch of the doorway and gilded, 
was the name “ The Anchoret,” at each 
193 


THE END OF DREAMS 


end of which, for some reason possibly 
known to the builder, was carved a 
small anchor. Such things occur at 
times in the over rapid development of 
architectural classics. 

As the elevator sank into place, and 
the door was slid back, the youthful 
conductor grinned cordially. 

“Howdy do, Mr. Dayre,” he said. 
“ There ain’t nothin’ come yet. Oh — 
goin’ up this time? ” 

The recognition did not surprise De- 
mas as much as the fact that his desire 
to go to what were presumably his 
rooms was unexpected. Rapidly the 
car shot upward, and, without direction, 
stopped at the seventh floor. As the 
door closed behind him, and the elevator 
descended, Demas looked once more at 
the crumpled paper. It directed him 
to apartment Number 716, and a dozen 
194 


AT THE ANCHORET 

steps down the hallway brought him 
before the door with its bronze figures. 

He paused. If this were the decisive 
moment, he was ready for it — yes, eager 
for it! He threw his hand back to his 
hip momentarily, and then knocked 
sharply. 

“ Come in! ” called a voice. The tone 
was unafraid, and clearly not shaded 
by any thought even of a possibility of 
trouble. 

With his muscles tense and ready, 
Demas pushed open the door and 
stepped into the room. 

In another door, opening from a far 
corner, stood Tom Gadgey, razor in 
hand and half his face lathered. 

“ Why, hello, Demie! ” he exclaimed, 
cordially. “ Wher’ve you been for a 
month of holidays, anyhow?” 

Demas’s muscles relaxed, and he 
195 


THE END OF DREAMS 

drew a long breath. Perhaps, after all, 
he was not disappointed that the crisis 
had not been reached. 

“ Oh, not much of any place,” he an- 
swered. 

“Been havin’ any more bad dreams 
lately?” 

The hesitation in Demas’s answer was 
caused by the sharp look he gave as 
Gadgey stepped back into his bath 
room to finish shaving, and a moment’s 
satisfaction due to confirmed suspi- 
cions. The other, too, had dreams, 
then. 

“Not to amount to much,” he an- 
swered, non-committally. 

“You’re lookin’ better, anyhow,” 
said Gadgey, from the bath room, as 
his razor scraped noisily over his stiff 
beard. “ Nothin’ but a case o’ nerves 
that you ought to be ashamed of. 

196 


AT THE ANCHORET 

You’ll come out of it all right, an’ be 
as good as new.” 

“ Better, maybe,” suggested Demas. 

“ Sure, better! Why not? When 
are you goin’ to get busy again, and 
help me and Vash run things?” 

“Well, I don’t know just yet.” 

“ Come back to-night. We need 
you. Business is fine, and we ain’t 
doin’ a thing but packin’ the velvet up 
in bales. And besides, for a little 
sport some night, I’ve got my eye on a 
couple of good easy things we can pull 
off. No gettin’ into the wrong flat 
with these, either ; they’re — ” 

The whir of the telephone bell inter- 
rupted him, and still mopping his face 
with a towel, he walked across the 
room, and took down the receiver. 

“ Hello ! ” he called. “ Huh ? 
“Yes, sure I’m here. Come on up 
197 


THE END OF DREAMS 

whoever you are.” — “ Huh? ” — 
“ What? ” — “ Who? ” — “ Aw, quit your 
kiddin\ Who is it?”— “Huh?”— 
“ Come off! That don’t go.”— “ Why? 
W’y because Demie’s right here in the 
room with me now, an’ — What?” — 
“ Y ou won’t come up ? ” — “ Hold on I 
Wait a minute. I want to know 
who — ” 

Demas, with his suspicions aroused, 
had arisen, hat in hand, at the begin- 
ning of the telephone dialogue. At 
the last words he jerked open the door, 
and ran down the hall to the elevator, 
not heeding Gadgey’s call for him not 
to go yet. The car was just descend- 
ing. 

“Down!” he called, sharply. 

“ Hurry! ” he cried, as he stepped in- 
side; but machinery is inexorable, and 
the car sank at its usual speed. 

198 


AT THE ANCHORET 

Demas did not wait for the boy’s de- 
liberate movements, but, as the elevator 
reached the ground floor, threw back 
the door himself, and sprang into the 
hall ready for what might happen. But 
once more the effort failed. The hall- 
way was deserted. Leaning against 
the wall by the telephone was a heavy 
walking stick with a crooked handle. 
He caught it up, and hurried out of the 
door. 

Almost a block away he saw a cab 
turning the corner with its horse on a 
brisk trot. It was the same cab that 
had carried him to Yashti Garwood’s. 


199 


CHAPTER XIV 
FEAR OF SLEEP 

rjlHE last visitor had gone, and, sit- 
ting alone in the deserted rooms, 
Tom Gadgey had carefully measured 
the night’s harvest, and, with a lively 
sense of satisfaction, had stowed it 
away in the safe. Then going to one 
of the reception room windows he drew 
back the heavy hangings and raised the 
sash to let in the fresh air lighted by 
the first beams of the May morning sun. 
Vashti Garwood had been sleeping for 
hours, and would sleep for hours longer 
in order that she might be bright and 
fresh to meet the front door business 
of the day. For Vashti was not one to 
200 


FEAR OF SLEEP 


imperil her beauty or vivacity by late 
hours and unprofitable dissipation. 

As he stood there by the window 
watching the light grow stronger and 
listening to the gradually increasing 
noise of the day, Tom Gadgey’s reflec- 
tions were far from satisfactory, and 
from time to time he shook his head 
slowly in melancholy disapproval. For 
weeks he had borne the brunt of the 
nightly work which Demas Dayre 
should have shared, and — for all the 
charity of friendship — he was getting 
tired of it. But while this caused him 
some annoyance, it was by no means the 
full measure of his distress. He was 
worried about Demas, about his long 
and mysterious absences, and about his 
flightiness and moodiness when he ap- 
peared. To be sure, the brief glimpse 
he had when Demas came to his rooms 
201 


THE END OF DREAMS 

a few mornings before was reassuring 
as to his physical health; but such satis- 
faction as was to be had from this was 
practically destroyed by the sudden and 
unexplainable departure of the erratic 
one. Something must be done to bring 
Demas to his senses. It did not look 
as if any one were going to be able to 
learn the cause of the trouble, such a 
mystery Demas made of it, but what- 
ever it was, he must be taken in hand; 
he must — 

The train of Gadgey’s thoughts was 
suddenly arrested, and he half turned 
away from the window in a listening 
attitude. From below, through the 
stillness, had come the sound of the 
closing of a door, and now, as he lis- 
tened intently, he could hear the muffled 
thud of slow footsteps on the stairway. 

The caution of a varied experience 
202 


FEAR OF SLEEP 


caused him to glance quickly toward the 
safe to reassure himself that he had 
locked it. He was not, however, ex- 
pecting a marauder; he was expecting 
Demas Dayre, expecting him with a 
heart full of friendly reproaches, pro- 
tests and appeals to his reasonableness. 

But when Demas Dayre stood in the 
doorway these thoughts fled, and Gad- 
gey sprang toward him with an excla- 
mation of surprise. 

“ Lord, Demie! ” he cried. “ What’s 
the matter with you? ” 

Demas ignored the hand extended to 
help him, and, crossing the room, sank 
heavily into a chair. 

“ Nothing,” he replied, dully. 
“ Why?” 

“Why?” repeated Gadgey, as he 
stared at the man before him, haggard, 
hollow-eyed and with a hand that trem- 
203 


THE END OF DREAMS 

bled as he raised it to take off his hat. 
“ W’y, you look like the devil! ” 

“ Oh/’ said Demas, indifferently, as 
if his personal appearance were of too 
small account to call for explanation. 
“I haven’t slept for three or four 
nights.” 

“ The devil you haven’t! Why not? ” 

For a moment Demas leaned wearily 
back in his chair in silence, and then 
spoke in the tone of one who is too tired 
to make any further effort at conceal- 
ment. 

“I’ve been afraid to sleep,” he said. 

“ Good God, Demie ! Are they 

houndin’ you as close as that? What 
do they want you for — No, never mind; 
don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. 
But, Lord Almighty, man, you must 
have rest or they’ll get you sure ! Come 
along with me to my rooms, and I’ll 
204 


FEAR OF SLEEP 


stay awake while you knock out ten or 
twelve hours, and get on your feet 
again.” 

Demas shook his head wearily. 

“ It would be dead safe,” insisted 
Gadgey; “but I s’pose if you felt nerv- 
ous about it, it wouldn’t do you much 
good.” He paused a moment reflect- 
ively. “ I’ve got it, by jingo ! ” he went 
on. “ Go out to Dutch Heinie’s, and 
stay a while. Good, fresh country air 
and eats to quiet your nerves, and 
safer’n a jail! W’y, you could sleep 
there day and night for a week, and 
come back fresh as a new deck.” 

“It isn’t that I’m afraid of getting 
caught.” Demas still spoke wearily. 
“ I’m just afraid to sleep, that’s all.” 

“Why?” 

“ Dreams.” He uttered the word 
almost with a cringe. 

205 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“Oh, hell!” exclaimed Gadgey. 
“Forget it! You’ve got too much 
sense for that sort of thing.” 

“ You don’t suppose,” retorted De- 
mas, this time with his weary tone 
slightly tinged with sarcasm, “ that I 
haven’t tried to forget it, do you? I’m 
not doing this for the mere sport of the 
thing.” 

Gadgey walked to the window, and 
looked out. He was irritated, almost 
disgusted, with Demas’s lack of nerve, 
lack of self control; and yet — he must 
be sick, and pretty sick at that ; nothing 
else could account for such a state of 
mind. Gadgey came back slowly with 
more tolerant thoughts. 

“Look here, Demie,” he said. “I 
don’t want to knock, but when it comes 
to a man of your nerve bein’ put pretty 
near down and out by any such gag as 
206 


FEAR OF SLEEP 


this, I can’t play the game. Say, now, 
get right down to brass tacks. Ain’t 
there a girl in this? ” 

For a moment Demas straightened in 
his chair aggressively, and then sank 
back as he was. 

“Yes,” he assented; “in a way, there 
is.” 

“ Huh? ” Gadgey snorted. “ I 
thought so. Who is she? ” 

Demas did not answer. As Gadgey 
watched him a queer thought came into 
his mind. 

“Say,” he exclaimed, “it’s not that 
girl who recognized you in her flat that 
night, is it?” 

Demas shifted uneasily in his chair, 
but desire for the relief that sharing 
trouble gives overcame him. 

“ Yes,” he said. 

“Well, if that don’t beat — Say, do 
207 


THE END OF DREAMS 


you know her for sure, and does she 
know you? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Gadgey sat down again. 

“ Tell me the story of your life,” he 
said. “ It’ll do you good to unload, 
and maybe I can give you a common- 
sense tip or two.” 

“We used to go to college together, 
and knew each other pretty well. In 
fact we were just as good as — Then I 
didn’t see her for about ten years; not 
until that night I got into the wrong 
flat. Since then I’ve been looking for 
her all the time and everywhere — ” 

“ Hm-m-m-m, that’s what you’ve 
been doin’, eh? ” 

“ I found her one day, and tried to 
square myself, but I didn’t make it go 
very well. I asked her to write me at 
your rooms when I could see her again, 
208 


FEAR OF SLEEP 


and I’ve been to the Anchoret twice a 
day ever since to ask the elevator boy 
for the letter. Tom, I’ve got to see 
her again, and square myself! She’s 
everything she used to be, and more. 
I don’t see how I ever forgot her for so 
long, but — I’ll never forget her again.” 

“Well, well,” said Gadgey, sooth- 
ingly, “ don’t take it so hard. Like 
enough it can be fixed. Maybe Vashti 
can help — ” 

With an impatient gesture Demas 
rose. 

“ She doesn’t belong in Vashti’s 
class, Tom; nor yours, either, for that 
matter,” he said, a little bitterly. “I 
had my chance once, and then — But it 
isn’t all over. It can’t be. She can’t 
have forgotten everything. And I 
need her! If I was just sure of her, 
if I knew that when I got home — and 
209 


THE END OF DREAMS 

I’d have a home, too!— she would be 
there waiting and glad to see me, I 
wouldn’t be afraid of — Well, that 
would be enough to knock those 
damned dreams out so they would never 
come again. But, Tom, I telhyou just 
as sure as you’re alive, if she turns me 
down I’m a goner! ” 

He sat down again, and buried his 
face in his hands, while something al- 
most like a sob shook his shoulders. 

“Well, now, look here,” said Gad- 
gey, still soothingly, “ you cut out the 
booze, and go out to Dutch Heinie’s, 
and maybe by the time you’ve thought 
it over sensibly for a week you’ll get a 
new line on the thing. While you’re 
gone Vash and I will talk it over, and 
see if we can’t — No,” he interrupted 
himself quickly, as Demas was about 
to object, “ we won’t butt in. We’ll 
210 


FEAR OF SLEEP 


just try to frame up some scheme that 
you can work. It don’t stand to rea- 
son, Demie, that a girl’s goin’ to turn 
down a fellow like you if he goes at her 
right, and shows her that he means it, 
and it’s on the level. You ought to 
know that yourself. What you need 
now is rest and sleep so you can get a 
grip on yourself. That’ll help you 
more’n anything else. So, you for 
Dutch Heinie’s for a while. The 
rest’ll be easy. And now let’s go get 
some breakfast.” 


211 


CHAPTER XV 


FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 

JT was with a feeling of infinite relief 
that Beatrice welcomed Demas 
when he came on the evening of his 
visit to the address she had so reluct- 
antly given him. Just what she feared 
she did not know, but there was some- 
thing so unreasonable, so unnatural 
about the affair she felt that almost 
anything might happen. 

“You saw him?” she asked, anx- 
iously. 

“No,” he answered, with a smile in- 
tended to reassure her; “I didn’t even 
get a glimpse of him.” 

“Then there was no such address? ” 
She spoke eagerly, with a feeling that 
212 


FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 


it would be better not to know where 
such a strange, incomprehensible being 
was to be found. 

“ Oh, yes; I found the address. It’s 
a rather nice place; bachelor apart- 
ments, I should think. But I don’t be- 
lieve he lives there.” 

She looked the question she did not 
ask, and he went on. 

“ The elevator boy greeted me 
promptly enough by name, but rather 
as an occasional visitor than as a tenant, 
and when I found the room I inter- 
rupted a man at his morning shave who 
was an entire stranger.” 

“ But didn’t he know — ” 

“ I didn’t ask him that, because I 
didn’t want to direct attention either to 
the other or myself, and our peculiar re- 
semblance. It occurred to me that he 
might merely have an arrangement with 
213 


THE END OF DREAMS 

the elevator boy to care for his mail for 
him.” 

Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief. 

“ Then there’s no use going there any 
more, is there? ” she asked. 

“I don’t know; I suspect not.” 
“Oh, don’t go any more, Demas! 
It wouldn’t do any good if you did find 
him, and I’m sure there’s some danger. 
We’ll probably never see or hear of him 
again.” 

“I wish I really could be sure that 
you would never see or hear of him 
again.” 

“ Why should I ever see him again? ” 
“ For no reason, if you can avoid it. 
But I’m very much inclined to believe 
that you will see him again when, as 
before, you least expect it. It’s pretty 
clear that he wants to see you and try to 
convince you that there was a mistake; 
214 


FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 


and I’m afraid he will find a way. If 
you do see him tell him — - ” He paused. 

“ Tell him what, Demas?” 

“Tell him,” he spoke more lightly, 
“ that I’d be very glad to meet him any 
time he could find it convenient to talk 
over our peculiar resemblance and the 
strange apparent similarity of some of 
our past experience.” 

But after Demas had said good-bye, 
and left to take a train for home, she 
made up her mind that she would bear 
no such message to the incomprehensi- 
ble stranger in the entirely unlikely 
event of her seeing him again. All she 
asked now was that she and Demas 
should never see him, and be able to for- 
get him utterly. For her days and her 
thoughts were now too precious to be 
wasted on an interloper. 

It seemed almost as if Time had 
215 


THE END OF DREAMS 

turned backward ten years in his flight, 
and that the days so dear to her memory 
had come again. Now, once more, he 
was the Demas of other days, and she 
was — Beatie ! It had been a long while 
since she had been Beatie, and it was 
very sweet. 

Hers was now the happiness of faith. 
Demas had not explained what led him 
to withdraw himself so completely from 
his friends and from her, and thus 
wreck the hopes that she was sure then 
and sure now he shared, but she asked 
no questions. Vaguely it seemed to her 
that the other man who called himself 
Demas Dayre had something to do with 
it; but she put this thought from her 
as foolish and unreasonable. 

Even when she felt that Demas knew 
more of that other man than he had told 
her, she had no spurring curiosity. If 
216 


FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 

there were that to tell which she should 
know, in good time he would tell her, 
and until he told her there were good 
reasons for his keeping silent. And if 
the mystery of that man kept Demas 
from speaking to her, as she knew from 
his tones and actions he was eager to 
speak, she would wait, and wait pa- 
tiently. It was something — something 
better than she had known for ten 
years — that he should come so far to see 
her, and to know, to feel that he would 
come oftener and come with greater 
eagerness as the time passed. So she 
worked happily with her brushes, and 
her thoughts sang even at times when 
her voice did not. 

It was one of these thought songs 
that was interrupted one afternoon 
some days after Demas’s visit by a ring 
at the door. She laid aside her brushes 
217 


THE END OF DREAMS 


and quickly taking off her apron went 
to answer it, smoothing her hair and 
humming happily to herself as she did 
so. But the song ended in a gasp be- 
tween stiffened bps as she opened the 
door. 

“ Beatie ! Beatie ! ” he cried, in a low 
pleading tone. “Don’t look at me that 
way ! Oh, please don’t ! ” 

Then, as she did not answer, but 
merely stood looking at him with eyes 
rounded large with wonder and touched 
with fear, he went on in a voice that 
was tender and beseeching. 

“ Don’t be afraid, Beatie. I’ve come 
to — to explain. I must explain — I 
can’t sleep, I can’t live if I don’t make 
you understand. You must under- 
stand, Beatie. Oh, Beatie, Beatie, for 
the sake of the old days, you will listen 
to me, won’t you? ” 


218 


FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 

Her fears passed as she listened to 
his pleading words, and she felt only 
wonder. Who was he? How did he 
know of those days he spoke of so fa- 
miliarly? Surely she should learn if 
she could, and yet — 

“My mother — ” she began. 

“I know,” he interrupted. “I saw 
her go out. I’ve walked up and down 
the street keeping the entrance in sight 
for hours, for I felt that I must see you 
alone. You did not write to me as you 
— as I hoped. IVe been twice, some- 
times three times a day every day to get 
your letter ever since I saw you. IVe 
looked for you everywhere I thought 
you could possibly be. But it was no 
use. The only chance to see you was to 
come here, and — I came.” 

Her face had softened, but she still 
hesitated. 


219 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ You are not afraid of me, Beatie, 
surely you are not afraid of me ! Why, 
I’d give my very life to keep you from 
harm.” 

She swung back the door, and he en- 
tered. For a moment they looked at 
each other in silence — he with eyes that 
were satisfying a gnawing hunger of 
the heart, and she anxiously yet keenly, 
trying to detect the difference — the dif- 
ference she could feel, but could not see. 

“Well?” she said, finally, making 
her voice as colorless as she could. 

“ Beatie,” he said, “ I slept last night 
for the first time in five nights. I 
couldn’t sleep because I was thinking — 
what it meant to have you — not under- 
stand. Beatie, it was all a mistake 
about that night — on my word of honor 
it was. Why, even if I had — had sunk 
to what you thought, you cannot be- 
220 


FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 


lieve that I would — do you any harm. 
You know me better than that, Beatie.” 

She turned her eyes straight on his 
and for all her excitement, spoke in a 
tone that was firm and low. 

“ I do not know you at all,” she said. 
“ Who are you?” 

“ Oh, Beatie, Beatie, after all that has 
passed ! After all that we were to each 
other — then. You can’t have forgot- 
ten! You do know me! You are only 
hurt and angry because — because I 
made a mistake. Don’t condemn me 
for that, Beatie. I know I haven’t 
been all that I should have been, but I 
had no home, no friends, no — Beatie. 
I had lost you. I did not know where 
you were, nor even where to search for 
you. The world has been hard, but I 
have made my way, Beatie, and I can 
offer you — Beatie, I love you, love you 
221 


THE END OF DREAMS 

better than in those other days which 
were so happy and so hopeful — ” 

She interrupted him with a nervous 
gesture. 

“ Don’t!” she said, sharply. 
“ Don’t !” 

“I must, Beatie; I can’t help it. 
This may be my only chance. If you 
send me away now, you may be sending 
me to my death.” He shivered a little. 
“ But you will not — I know you will 
not. You knew I loved you then, and 
— you loved me. What is so different 
now, Beatie? Can’t you love me again? 
Won’t you save me? ” 

There was no doubting his earnest- 
ness. He pleaded for her love as a man 
pleads for his life. The very feeling in 
which his words were so rich moved her 
to a strange sympathy, but — Who was 
he? That was the question which every 
222 


FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 


one of her rapid heart beats pounded 
into her wondering mind. 

“ It is foolish,” she said, “ for you to 
talk like that to me. I will not listen 
to you. And I won’t listen to anything 
you say until you tell me who you are.” 

There was pitiable helplessness, al- 
most despair in his look. 

“ Oh, Beatie,” he exclaimed, in a voice 
that trembled, “you know that I am 
Demas Dayre — Demas who loved you 
in the college days and who loves you 
now, and comes to beg you to make his 
life worth living. With you there 
would be no more dream horrors, and 
no — ” He checked himself, again 
shivering. 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ I mean, Beatie, that I cannot — I 
cannot live without you.” 

She gathered herself determinedly. 

223 


THE END OF DREAMS 


“ I don’t know you,” she said, “ and I 
don’t understand you. I won’t listen 
to any more of such things. I want you 
to go away, I never want to see you 
again.” 

His face turned ashen, and his knees 
trembled. 

“ You don’t mean that, Beatie,” he 
gasped. “ Surely you don’t mean that ! 
You’ll give me a chance, at least.” 

She walked to the door and opened it. 

“ Please go now,” she said, “ and 
never come here again. I won’t see you 
again.” 

His figure stiffened, and the look in 
his eyes changed. 

“ Beatie,” he said in a low voice, ten- 
der but determined, “ you will see me 
again. I can’t give you up, and I 
won’t. Think about the past, Beatie, 
and what we have been to each other, 
2 24 



PLEASE GO NOW AND NEVER COME HERE AGAIN. 


























FOR LOVE— AND LIFE 


and when I come again to you with my 
love and my life — Beatie, then you will 
listen.” 

He passed out of the door, and she 
sank into a chair sobbing from a fear 
that she could not understand. 


225 


CHAPTER XVI 
THE NOTE BY MESSENGER 

gHOULD she or should she not 
write to Demas of her second as- 
tounding experience with this unac- 
countable stranger whose appearance 
was so familiar and whose knowledge of 
the past was so disconcerting? That 
was the question which kept Beatrice 
awake long after her usual hour for go- 
ing to sleep that night. Was it not bet- 
ter to keep silent, and try to forget? If 
she did write she was certain that De- 
mas would come again and make an- 
other eff ort to find the man. Surely it 
was better that they should never meet. 
Why, she did not know, but the very 
226 


THE NOTE BY MESSENGER 

thought of such a meeting gave her an 
indefinable feeling of dread. Yet — 
perhaps something she could tell of the 
meeting would aid Demas in the solu- 
tion of the problem with which she felt 
he was struggling. And she did want 
to see him, now, she felt, more than 
ever; there were so many things to talk 
about. 

Before breakfast the next morning 
she wrote the letter; discreetly, how- 
ever, with no mention of the fact that 
the other Demas Dayre had laid his 
heart at her feet. Even if, because of the 
peculiar circumstances, she could have 
brought herself to believe that such a 
revelation was not a betrayal of the 
most sacred confidence a woman re- 
ceives from a man, she could not have 
mentioned it to Demas at this time — to 
another, perhaps, or to Demas some 
227 


THE END OF DREAMS 


day, but not now. So she dwelt on the 
strange Demas’s earnest effort to con- 
vince her that his appearance on the 
night of the interrupted robbery was 
the result of a madcap but harmless 
prank; his surprising knowledge of 
other days, and his apparently sincere 
effort to gain her confidence and 
friendship. 

She did not ask him to come, but when 
she posted the letter so promptly it was 
with the thought that it would reach him 
that evening or early the next morning, 
and that by the next afternoon he would 
probably be with her. So her singing 
thoughts were once again with her as 
she worked at her painting that day, 
and their notes were more cheerful than 
ever the next morning when she re- 
ceived a telegram which read: 

Will be there this afternoon. 


228 


THE NOTE BY MESSENGER 

About five o’clock or very soon after, 
this meant, she knew; so the rest of the 
day was of waiting, of rehearsing the 
story she had to tell so as to put it most 
clearly, and of wondering, wondering, 
wondering what it all meant. 

Before four o’clock her work was laid 
aside, before five she was dressed in the 
way she knew he liked best, and ready 
to welcome him ; and at five there was a 
ring. 

But it was not Demas Dayre that her 
welcoming smile greeted as she opened 
the door. It was a messenger boy, 
short, slouchy and freckle faced, with 
his uniform cap set rakishly on the side 
of his head. 

“ Miss Beetrus Collmer? ” he said, in- 
quiringly, holding out a sealed envel- 
ope. “ Thay’s a nanswer,” he added, as 
she took it eagerly. 

229 


THE END OF DREAMS 


She recognized the handwriting at a 
glance, recognized it with such a sudden 
feeling of apprehension that it was with 
a great sensation of relief she read : 

Dear Beatie: 

Can’t you come down town and take dinner 
with me this evening? It will help to spend the 
time pleasantly, and give us the best chance to 
talk over the many things we have to discuss. 
If you will come, just tell the messenger 
“ Yes,” and he will have a carriage for you at 
the door in ten minutes. The driver will have 
his directions, and there will be nothing for 
you to do but to come. All of which is so easy 
for you that I am almost sure you will not 
refuse. 

As ever, 

Demas. 

“Yep? ” said the boy, owlishly, as she 
looked up. 

“ Yes,” she replied. 

“ Awright. Have a coupy at the 

230 


THE NOTE BY MESSENGER 

door by the time yer ready. Got th’ 
order fer it here, see? ” And giving her 
a glimpse of another sealed envelope, he 
slouched off toward the elevator. 

Pleasurable excitement possessed her 
as she turned to get ready. Restaurant 
dinners were not numerous enough in 
her life to have lost their charm of nov- 
elty; and it would be especially fine to 
have such a dinner with Demas. 

“ Mama,” she cried, “I’m going down 
town to take dinner with Demas. He 
has just come from home, and has sent 
a carriage for me.” 

“But, Beatrice, are you sure it will 
be all right for you to — ” 

“Of course it will be all right ! Why 
not? Isn’t it Demas? ” 

Even her mother could not attempt 
to dispute this, and if she had, what dif- 
ference would it have made, under the 
231 


THE END OF DREAMS 


circumstances, to Beatrice or to any 
other girl who had arrived at the dignity 
and independence of twenty-eight? 

An unexplainable feeling of uneasi- 
ness such as had never come to him be- 
fore seized Demas when he read Beat- 
rice’s letter. It was not merely because 
his mysterious double had presumed to 
seek her out again — that was bad 
enough, and its repetition must be pre- 
vented in some manner ; but it was some- 
thing else, a presentiment of danger to 
her through an unknown agency. 

The letter was brought to him while 
he was eating breakfast. When he fin- 
ished reading it a glance at his watch 
showed him that he had barely time to 
make the morning train. He had only 
to throw a few things into his suit case, 
and write a hurried note to Forbush. 


232 


THE NOTE BY MESSENGER 

“ Dear Nace,” it read, “ I’m off to take 
another chance on being arrested by 
Holtsclaw. Please don’t forget what 
I told you about certain papers in my 
desk in case anything more serious hap- 
pens to me.” 

He experienced no relief from his 
nervous fears as the train sped onward. 
His one desire now was to reach Beat- 
rice’s side as quickly as possible, and as- 
sure himself that no harm had come to 
her. As the train pulled into the sta- 
tion he was standing on the car steps, 
and before it stopped he swung himself 
off and ran toward the gates. A mo- 
ment later he was in a cab urging the 
driver with liberal promises to hurry to 
the Mirador apartments. Even the 
elevator seemed unusually slow in mak- 
ing its flight to the eighth floor, and his 
heart sank when he saw it was Mrs. Col- 


233 


THE END OF DREAMS 

lamer instead of Beatrice who opened 
the door. 

“Why, Demas,” she exclaimed, 
“ what’s the— ” 

“ Where’s Beatrice?” he asked, anx- 
iously, as he stepped into the room. 

“ Why, I supposed she was with you. 
How did you happen to miss her? ” 

“Miss her? What do you mean? 
Did she go to the station to meet me?” 

“Now, Demas, what makes you ask 
that? Of course not. When she got 
your note, she got ready right away and 
went down town in the carriage you 
sent for her to take her to dinner with 
you.” 

He caught his breath. 

“ Let me see that note.” 

She took it from the table where 
Beatrice had left it, and handed it to 
him. As he read it the fear that had 


234 , 


THE NOTE BY MESSENGER 

been growing on him since he had re- 
ceived her letter seemed to become great 
enough almost to crush him. But — 
he grasped eagerly at the faint hope — ■ 
perhaps something would warn her. 
Controlling himself with an effort so as 
to alarm Mrs. Collamer as little as pos- 
sible, he spoke in nearly his usual tone. 

“Well, it seems that I did miss her,” 
he said, “ so I’ll go out now and try to 
find her. In case I miss her again, I 
wish you would telephone to my hotel 
as soon as she gets back, and also tell 
her that I’ll come back after dinner to 
see her! ” 

The laggard elevator carried him to 
the ground floor again, seemingly 
slower than ever; but as he went out of 
the front door of the building, he 
paused. 

Which way should he turn? 

235 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE BLIND TRAIL 

gLOWLY and aimlessly Demas 
Dayre moved away from the en- 
trance of the Mirador. What should 
he do? What could he do? He 
stopped at the corner, and looked about 
him undecidedly. 

“ Hello, Cap!” 

The voice, confident in its impudence, 
drew Demas’s eyes to the curb. There 
sat a messenger boy, short, slouchy and 
freckle faced, with his uniform cap set 
rakishly on the side of his head. He 
held in his hand a much tattered copy of 
an illustrated paper filled mostly with 
pictures of prize fighters and race 
horses. 


236 


THE BLIND TRAIL 


“Waitin’ fer a car?” the boy went 
on familiarly. “That’s wot I’m doin’. 
I’ve missed three already.” 

Scarcely hearing what the boy said, 
and making no answer, Demas looked 
away again. 

“ Say, Cap, I hope you ain’t got no 
grouch, ’cause I done a good job, an’ I 
t’ink you owe me a good tip fer gittin’ 
the note there an’ gittin’ the coupy 
quick, an’ gittin’ her started in good 
shape.” 

Demas’s wandering gaze and 
thoughts came back to the boy with a 
snap. 

“Did you deliver that note?” he 
asked, sharply. 

“ Come off, Cap! Wot’s the matter 
wid — ” 

“ Where did you get it?” 

“ Now, w’ere do you s’pose I got it? 

237 


THE END OF DREAMS 


I got it right w’ere you give it to me, at 
the back door o’ Number 437, that’s 
w’ere I got it, see? You ain’t gittin’ 
nutty or nothin’, are you? ” 

Why had he not thought of that be- 
fore? Where would such a man be 
more likely to hide himself, and where 
would his machinations receive more 
support than among such friends? 

“ Can you get me a cab quick?” he 
asked. 

“ Sure I kin git youse a cab quick, if 
dere’s anyt’ing in it.” 

Demas tossed him a dollar. 

“ I’ll give you another if you get it 
here quick enough.” 

“That fer me!” exclaimed the boy, 
as he set off on a run. 

In two minutes he saw a cab turn the 
next corner at a brisk trot, with the boy 
standing in the front part making ur- 
238 


THE BLIND TRAIL 

gent gesticulations at the driver, sup- 
plemented by a voice that was evidently 
heard and heeded. 

“Right on time, Cap!” he cried, as 
the cab pulled up at the curb, and he 
leaped out nimbly. 

As he gave the cabman the address 
and stepped into the cab, Demas tossed 
the boy the promised dollar. 

“Yours truly, Cap!” exclaimed the 
messenger. . “ Any time you wants any 
business done in my line, jist lemme 
know. Insist on havin’ the orig’nal 
number t’ree toity t’ree — see?” he went 
on as he pointed to the plate on his cap. 
“ T’ree frees in a row. Don’t fergit 
the sign.” And as the cab was out of 
hearing by this time, he took out his il- 
lustrated paper again, and sat down 
comfortably on the curb to miss a few 
more cars. 

239 


THE END OF DREAMS 

There was some surprise in Antoine’s 
face as he admitted Demas at the back 
entrance of Number 437, but, as discre- 
tion was his most valuable quality, it 
was unexpressed. 

“ I think Miss Garwood is in her sit- 
ting room now,” he said, in answer to 
Demas’s inquiry. “ Will you go up, 
sir?” 

“No; please ask her — Or, yes, I 
think I shall. Please show me the 
way.” 

Again Antoine looked at him almost 
in surprise, but still he was Antoine, the 
discreet. With a slight bow he led the 
way. 

Vashti Garwood was never careless of 
her personal appearance even when she 
was alone, and expected no one; for, be- 
sides having herself to please, she al- 
ways took possibilities into account. 

240 


THE BLIND TRAIL 


Thus, as she lounged in a low easy chair, 
wearing a light blue kimono and blue 
slippers, she made a picture that was 
more than fair — it was alluring. 

As Demas appeared in the doorway, 
she straightened up as if about to speak, 
and then, by some intuition, checked 
herself, and looked at him curiously. 

“I should like to see the man who 
calls himself Demas Dayre,” he said, 
without other greeting, as he entered. 

She gave him a slight smile, as he thus 
so promptly and unquestionably iden- 
tified himself. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, as she settled 
back in her most graceful attitude, 
“ but he is not here now.” 

“When was he here?” 

“ He was here — last night.” 

“And when since then? How long 
ago did he leave here — if he is gone?” 

241 


THE END OF DREAMS 

She hesitated a moment, then an- 
swered slowly. 

“ Your manner, it seems to me, Mr. 
Dayre, is unpleasantly inquisitorial.” 

“I don’t mean to be offensive, Miss 
Garwood ; but I intend to find that man. 
If he is here in this house it will save 
time and possibly trouble for you to say 
so.” 

“ Trouble? ” 

“ I hope you will not compel me to 
lay my knowledge of this place before 
the police.” 

She laughed softly, and took a cigar- 
ette from the stand at her side. 

“ I don’t think you could interest the 
police in such a subject,” she said. 
“We give them too little trouble, and 
treat them with too much considera- 
tion.” 

She smiled again as she saw the mus- 

242 


THE BLIND TRAIL 

cles of his jaws harden. It was an evi- 
dence that he fully realized the truth of 
her declaration. 

“ Why is it,” she asked, “ that you are 
so anxious to find Demie just now? ” 

“ I imagine that you know quite as 
well as I do. And I am confident that 
he is in this house — and that he did not 
return alone. If you will not satisfy 
me that he is not, I can at least obtain 
a warrant that will permit the search of 
the premises by officers. That would 
not be pleasant for either of us, but — ” 

“ It would be extremely unpleasant 
as well as unnecessary, Mr. Dayre. 
Sooner than put you to that trouble I 
will throw open my house to you.” 

She touched a bell on the table at her 
side, and in a moment Antoine ap- 
peared. 

“ Antoine,” she said, “ Mr. Dayre 
248 


THE END OF DREAMS 

wishes to look over the house carefully. 
You will show him into every room in it, 
and open every closet, and do anything 
else that will assist him in his investiga- 
tion.” She sank back in her chair, and 
took up a book. “ Good-evening, Mr. 
Dayre,” she said, with a smile of dis- 
missal. 

Twenty minutes later Demas reen- 
tered his cab as much at sea as he had 
been when he left the Mirador. Back 
there he went with a sinking heart ; and 
the anxiety in Mrs. Collamer’s face, as 
she opened the door for him, showed 
him that his fears were not groundless. 

“You didn’t find her?” she asked, 
nervously. 

“Not yet, Mrs. Collamer. I just 
dropped in to see if you are getting 
along all right. Don’t worry. I’m 
sure no harm has come to her. Beatrice 


244 


THE BLIND TRAIL 


is quite capable of taking care of her- 
self, and the distressing mystery will 
probably soon be explained. ,, He 
spoke with a confidence that he was far 
from feeling, and was repaid for the ef- 
fort by the lightening of Mrs. Colla- 
mer’s expression. 

“Hadn’t we better notify the po- 
lice? ” she asked. 

“ Hardly, yet. It might result in a 
notoriety that would be unpleasant for 
both you and Beatrice. I will do noth- 
ing else but look for Beatrice until she 
is safe home again, for no one in the 
world is dearer to me than she is, Mrs. 
Collamer. ,, 

As the night wore on Demas exam- 
ined the register of every hospital in the 
city and the blotter of every police sta- 
tion without finding the slightest evi- 
dence to guide him. At three in the 
245 


THE END OF DREAMS 


morning, baffled and exhausted, he lay 
down for a few hours sleep. At eight 
he called up Mrs. Collamer’s flat. It 
was Dr. Runciman’s voice that an- 
swered. No, Beatrice had not re- 
turned yet, and Mrs. Collamer was al- 
most in a state of collapse. No, not 
dangerous; her condition was distress- 
ing rather than alarming, and the only 
treatment that would be beneficial was 
the return of her daughter. Until then 
he would afford her such relief as he 
could. 

Demas walked almost aimlessly out 
of the hotel, and turned up the street in 
the same direction he did on the night 
he went to Vashti Garwood’s. There in 
the same quiet side street stood the same 
cab and the same cabman with the 
bright piggish eyes. 

“W’y, good mornin’, Mr. Dayre,” 
246 


THE BLIND TRAIL 

he said. “ I thought you was out in the 
country. You must 'a’ found a buzz 
wagon to come in on,” he chuckled, with 
no thought of being inquisitive. 

Demas did not answer but stood look- 
ing at the man with a new rush of 
thoughts through his mind. 

“ I s’pose you’ll be wantin’ to go out 
ag’in some time to-day? ” suggested the 
driver, with his natural keen outlook for 
a liberal fare. 

Demas hesitated no longer. 

“ I’ll go out now,” he said, climbing 
into the cab. 


247 


CHAPTER XVIII 
IN THE COUPE 

TJEATRICE settled herself in the 
coupe with such a lively sense of 
anticipatory pleasure that she was al- 
most annoyed at the leisurely way in 
which the driver, who was a man with 
small piggish eyes which asked nothing 
and told nothing, closed the door and 
mounted his box. Nor could she see 
why he should not make his lean, thin- 
limbed bay go faster instead of starting 
off at such a time-consuming jog trot. 
She was eager to see Demas again, 
eager to discuss her own startling expe- 
rience, and eager, too, perhaps, for the 
dinner amid the fascination of bright 
lights and many people. 

248 


IN THE COUPE 


But pleasant anticipations make time 
pass quickly, and she had no idea how 
far she had gone when, shortly after 
turning the corner into a quieter street, 
the coupe suddenly pulled up at the 
curb. Then, before she had time to 
ask, or even to guess, in her astonish- 
ment, what was the matter, the door 
opened, and Demas Dayre stepped in, 
and the coupe moved on down the de- 
serted street. 

Her exclamation of pleased surprise 
was broken in half as he closed the door, 
and sat down beside her, and the chill of 
fright passed over her. 

“What are you doing here? What 
do you want?” she demanded, trem- 
blingly. 

“ Only to see you again, and talk to 
you, Beatie,” he answered, gently. 

“Where is — ” She stopped, as a 
249 


THE END OF DREAMS 

suspicion of the truth flashed over her. 
“ Did you send this carriage ?” 

“ Of course. You got my note? ” 

" Your note? ” 

“Yes; I signed it just as I used to; 
and I’d have thought you would remem- 
ber my handwriting.” 

“Your note,” she repeated, in a half 
dazed way. 

“Yes, Beatie; and when I found you 
had really come I never was so happy 
in my life. I knew that when you 
thought it over you would understand, 
and would believe me ; and — ” 

“Take me back home!” she com- 
manded. “ I didn’t understand. I 
don’t want to go with you! I won’t — ” 
“ But, Beatie, listen to me. I want 
to explain, to tell you — ” 

“ Take me back home! ” she repeated. 
“ Now!” 


250 


IN THE COUPE 


“ It isn’t fair, Beatie, for you to treat 
me this way, but — ” He leaned out of 
the window. “Drive over the next 
cross street,” he said to the driver, “ and 
go back. Understand? ” 

She did not hear the driver’s response, 
but the carriage almost immediately 
turned a corner, and she cheered her 
courage with the thought that the ordeal 
would soon be over. 

“ I meant all I said to you the other 
afternoon, Beatie,” he was saying. “ I 
love you better than my life, better than 
anything, better than everything. I 
want you to be my wife. Surely you 
can trust me, Beatie. We have known 
each other ever since we were little more 
than children. It is what I looked for- 
ward to in the old days, and I thought 
— I was sure you did.” 

Shrunk into the corner of the car- 
251 


THE END OF DREAMS 


riage, she did not answer. She was 
merely waiting, waiting to get back 
home, and to Demas. What would he 
think when he came and found her 
gone? She almost forgot her present 
distress in her agitating wonder. But 
the note — she had left it on the table. 
Her mother would show it to him, and 
he would understand. She must leave 
the carriage before it reached the Mira- 
dor — a block away, two blocks. If 
these two men met — now — 

His pleading tone again forced it- 
self on her attention. 

“It means so much to me, Beatie.” 
There was an entreating tenderness in 
his voice that was close to tears. “ You 
can hardly understand how much; but 
as true as I sit here beside you, it means 
life — or death. With you, Beatie, the 
252 


IN THE COUPE 


future for me, and for you, is all happi- 
ness — and safety. But without you — 
Oh, it is the turning point, the point 
from which I must go up or down — 
down — down — to — ” Something like 
a shudder interrupted him. 

“ Don’t! ” she protested, impatiently. 
“ Don’t talk of such things. I don’t 
know you. I don’t want to know you. 
You’re a—” 

“Beatie! ” His voice rang with re- 
proach. 

She settled back in the corner of the 
coupe. After all it was useless to ar- 
gue, and much better to keep silent. 
In a few moments more — 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw 
that he, too, had leaned back. His soft 
hat lay in his lap, and he held his hand- 
kerchief in his hand. The horse was 
253 


THE END OF DREAMS 


going at a better pace now, and she 
thought, with relief, that the worst was 
over. 

Suddenly she leaned forward, and 
looked out of the window. The houses 
on each side of the street were farther 
apart, and she could see that they were 
approaching wide tracts of vacant land. 

With a flare of anger she turned on 
him. 

“Where are you taking me?” she 
cried. “ You are not taking me back! ” 

“ I will take you back in a little while, 
Beatie. I want to make you under- 
stand first — ” 

“ Take me back now! Immediately! ” 

“Listen, Beatie — ” 

“ Take me back, or I shall go back by 
myself! ” 

She half rose, and grasped the handle 
of the door. 


254 


IN THE COUPE 


“Just a minute, Beatie,” he placed 
his hand lightly, but detainingly on her 
arm. 

“ Don’t touch me ! Don’t touch me, 
or I’ll scream!” 

“ But, Beatie — ” 

“You’re a coward!” 

She had pushed the door open now, 
and was just about to step out of the 
moving carriage. Suddenly he crushed 
the handkerchief in his hand, and 
dropped it into his hat. As he did so 
a pungent odor filled the carriage. The 
next moment he had clasped her round 
the waist, pulled her back to the seat, 
and thrust his hat over her face, cover- 
ing it completely. 

She made one supreme effort to 
scream; then the noise of the grinding 
wheels became faint and far away, and, 

with an utter relaxation of her tense 
255 


THE END OF DREAMS 


muscles, she lay back in the seat breath- 
ing with the long regular cadence of 
deep slumber. 

Once more he leaned out of the win- 
dow. 

“ Straight out now, and just as quick 
as you can make it,” he exclaimed, 
sharply. 

There was no answer but the crack 
of the whip and the lurch of the car- 
riage as the horse plunged forward. 


256 


CHAPTER XIX 


BEHIND LOCKED DOORS 

rjpHE house in which Dutch Heinie 
lived was rather large for a modest 
market gardener of simple and thrifty 
habits with no family other than his 
wife Lena; but, as he explained to the 
few persons who commented on the 
fact “der landt was goodt undt idt vas 
godt adt a bargkain.” Another ad- 
vantage of the place, for its purpose, 
was that it was not on a main thorough- 
fare, but on a byway that was little 
traveled, and stood a long way from a 
neighbor. As far as the county records 
showed, the place w.as the unincum- 
bered property of Dutch Heinie, but 
at the time it was conveyed to him he 
257 


THE END OF DREAMS 


had executed certain obligations to cer- 
tain people, and in consideration of 
never being pressed for payment, he 
was inclined to be unquestionably ac- 
commodating. 

Nor did he lose anything by this pol- 
icy. On the contrary, when certain 
gentlemen found it desirable to disap- 
pear from their usual haunts, and re- 
main on the missing list until some un- 
fortunate misunderstanding with the 
law had blown over and been forgotten 
or fixed, they paid well for their board 
and keep during the interval which they 
spent in seclusion. Likewise it was re- 
garded by the select few who enjoyed 
its privileges as an excellent place for 
one, after a shattering period of pleas- 
ure, to rest and regain control of his 
nerves and nerve. 

Still, Dutch Heinie’s paying guests 

258 


BEHIND LOCKED DOORS 


were not frequent, and never numerous, 
so, on the whole, his pleasant and profit- 
able occupation of raising vegetables 
for the city market was seldom inter- 
rupted by less congenial, if more profit- 
able, work. Nevertheless, it was re- 
quired by his patrons that the part of 
the house they used should always be 
ready for the immediate reception of 
guests. This was the second story. 
Extending across the entire front was a 
large room fitted up much after the 
manner of the lounging room at a com- 
fortable club, with the addition of a 
commodious and constantly well- 
stocked combination sideboard and ice 
box. From this room two doors opened 
into the hallway extending across the 
house and leading to the stairway which 
could be closed by a substantial door at 
the top. 


259 


THE END OF DREAMS 

On the other side of the hall were two 
bedrooms, each fitted up with com- 
prehensive appreciation of bachelor 
conveniences. Between these two cham- 
bers was a small unused and unfur- 
nished room, which might have been 
designed for a dressing .room, with 
doors into each of the bedrooms, and no 
other openings except three small win- 
dows which looked like port holes near 
the ceiling. 

Below, the appointments of the house 
were much simpler The stairway 
ended in a broad center hall which led 
to the front door. On one side was the 
parlor, which was the pride of Lena’s 
life, and almost unknown to other hu- 
man tread than hers on cleaning day; 
on the other was the bedroom of Dutch 
Heinie and Lena, and back of these 
were the dining room and kitchen. 

260 


BEHIND LOCKED DOORS 

Beatrice came out of her sleep slowly, 
and with a depressing languor that 
made her averse to move. As her fac- 
ulties gradually asserted themselves she 
had a vague sense of strange surround- 
ings. Then the memory of her ride in 
the coupe and her attempt to leave it 
roused her to a partial realization of her 
possible position, and she opened her 
eyes. 

Between the whitest and cleanest of 
draped back muslin curtains the early 
morning sun was shining into a room 
that was spotlessly neat and clean, and 
almost luxurious in its other furnish- 
ings. But the growing alarm she felt 
at the very apparent fact that these fur- 
nishings were not feminine in their util- 
ity and taste, was relieved when her 
gaze fell on a woman who was sitting 
by the window knitting industriously — 
261 


THE END OF DREAMS 

a woman of ample girth, with strong 
arms bare to the elbow, and hands that 
showed they were familiar with hard 
work; with a round rosy face, and eyes 
which* though they may have been a lit- 
tle stupid, were not vicious. 

She turned at a movement Beatrice 
made, and smiled affably. 

“ Didt you haf a goodt sleebp?” she 
asked. Her voice had the kindly sym- 
pathy of one who speaks to the afflicted, 
and was at least momentarily reassur- 
ing. 

“ Who are you? ” 

“Me? Oh, I’m just Lena.” 

“What place is this?” 

“Dis? Oh, dis iss Heinie’s.” 

“Where is it?” 

“ V’ere? Oh, idt iss yust here.” 

“Where is—” 

“Yes?” 


262 


BEHIND LOCKED DOORS 

“Where is— he?” 

“ Misdter Tayre? Oh, he iss asleebp 
alreadty yedt.” 

“ And where did you — ” 

“Oh, I didt nodt sleebp yedt. He 
told me I musdt sidt here by you all 
nighdt till you voke ubp, undt I didt.” 

Beatrice sat up. She was trembling, 
but the necessity of controlling herself, 
of maintaining all her faculties at their 
best bore strongly upon her. 

“ I will get up now, if I may,” she 
said. 

“Oh, yes. I am gladt to see you 
gedt ubp once. You vas bedter. He 
saidt he t’oought you vouldt be bedter 
diesen morgen.” 

“Where are my clothes?” 

“ In der closedt. I pudt dem dere 
lasdt nighdt v’en I pudt you to bedt so 
sigk. Undt now v’ile you are readty 
263 


THE END OF DREAMS 

gedting, I vill you some breagkfasdt 
magke.” She rose, and, laying aside 
her knitting, went to the door. “ I vill 
bringk idt to you righdt here in a 
chiffy.” 

She went out closing the door behind 
her, and Beatrice heard the key turn in 
the lock. Only then did the full reali- 
zation of her situation come to her. She 
was a prisoner! She sprang out of bed 
and ran to the window. Woods and 
fields, and not another house in sight! 
Along the front of the place ran a road 
with enough grass in it to show that it 
was not frequently traveled. Where 
she was, or how far from home, she had 
no idea. 4 

Despair clutched her heart, and sink- 
ing down, she threw herself forward on 
the floor, burying her face in her arms. 
Then, presently from out her sobs, rose 
264 


BEHIND LOCKED DOORS 

the hope that never dies in youth. She 
lifted her head, and the tears stopped. 
Even if she was a prisoner, even if she 
could not escape, Demas would know, 
as soon as he arrived, that she was gone, 
and the note would explain why. With 
this thought her courage rose. She 
would get away if she could, and if not 
would wait with such patience as she 
might. Demas would come. 

She had just finished dressing when 
the key again turned in the lock, and 
Lena entered with a tray. Never had 
she seen a daintier breakfast. The 
china was the thinnest, the glass the 
most brilliant, the silver of the most 
graceful pattern, the napery the snow- 
iest. 

“ Idt iss der best dishes,” she said, 
pridefully. “He saidt so.” 

Cheered with the hope that was now 
265 


THE END OF DREAMS 

strong in her, and her determination to 
maintain her strength at its best, she ate 
with an appetite additionally sharpened 
by the lack of last night’s dinner, while 
Lena beamed on her with a cook’s ap- 
proval. 

“Fine!” she exclaimed. “You vill 
gedt bedter fasdt. V’y, if I didt nodt 
know I vouldt now nodt tingk dot you 
vas — ” she stopped in some confusion. 

“That I was what? ” Beatrice spoke 
with anxious wonder. What did this 
woman think was the matter with her? 
What had she been told? 

“Dot you vas — vas — nodt very well.” 

“But I am well!” she protested, 
nervously. “ I’m as well as anybody.” 

“ Yes, yes, I know. You vas all 
righdt. Didt you like das friihstiick? ” 

“ It was very nice,” she said, rising. 
She stood silent a moment, and then 
266 


BEHIND LOCKED DOORS 


tried the first test. “ I think I shall go 
out for a while now.” 

“Nodt yedt, please,” responded 
Lena, apologetically. “He iss nodt 
ubp yedt alreadty.” A vibrating bell 
sounded somewhere. “Ach! He is 
ubp yedt! Dot iss for his shafing vas- 
ser. I vill come bagk soon,” she said, 
as she hurried out. Again the key 
turned in the lock. 

Beatrice raised the window, and 
looked out. It was probably eighteen 
feet to the ground, which sloped sharply 
away from the house on that side, so 
that a drop from the window would al- 
most certainly mean a roll over the 
rough ground to the bottom of the hill. 
She sighed. It was too hazardous to 
attempt except in the direst emergency. 
For nearly an hour she sat and looked 
out of the window. Not a person or a 
267 


THE END OF DREAMS 

vehicle appeared on the road which lost 
itself in the distant woods. 

Then she started apprehensively as 
heavy steps sounded in the hallway, and 
she heard the opening and closing of a 
door near her own. But silence fol- 
lowed until Lena, with a softer tread, 
came and opened the door. 

“ He vouldt asgk your bermission for 
you to see him now,” she said, ceremoni- 
ously. 

Beatrice’s indignation flared. 

“I will not see him,” she declared, 
hotly, clenching her fists, “now or at 
any other time, here or elsewhere, if I 
can help it!” 

“ Oh, veil, veil, now, ledt us nodt our- 
selfs excidted gedt,” said Lena, sooth- 
ingly. “You vas so much bedter al- 
readty. I vill tell him, undt idt vill be 
all righdt, Yes.” And again the key 
268 


BEHIND LOCKED DOORS 

on the outside of the door turned in the 
lock. 

Once more Beatrice stared out of the 
window at the far away ground, and 
once more she felt the sobs begin to 
choke her, but she forced them back, 
and called all her courage and hope to 
her aid. Surely Demas would come. 


269 


CHAPTER XX 


THE EBONY CANE 

I N a few minutes Lena was back 
again with an air of diplomatic tri- 
umph. 

“He has gone to the gardten,” she 
said, “ to vatch Heinie plandt weg’ta- 
bles seedts, undt schmogke, so you can 
come indto der frondt room. Ach, idt 
iss fine in dere, undt you vill ligke idt.” 

She threw open the door, and Beat- 
rice followed her across the hall dis- 
trustfully, yet eagerly. In the front 
room Lena spoke proudly, with a wave 
of her pudgy arm. 

“ Idt iss fine, ain’dt idt? Der beauti- 
ful chairs undt rugks undt efryting. 
Idt iss all for you now to please do vith. 

270 


THE EBONY CANE 


Der boogks undt magkazines undt — 
undt efryting. If you see vot you 
don’t vant, undt you vill ringk dot but- 
ton bell dere den I vill bringk idt to 
you.” 

“I would rather go outdoors,” said 
Beatrice, still tremulous. 

“ Ach, nodt yedt.” 

“ I must go out ! ” she cried, in a mix- 
ture of fear and indignation. “Why 
can’t I go out? ” 

“You vas nodt veil enough to go 
oudt of doors alreadty. Budt in a lid- 
tie v’ile — Oh, you vill gedt quigk bedter 
here, undt den — v’y — oh, yes.” 

The faint spark of hope that glowed 
in Beatrice’s heart when Lena went out 
leaving the door open behind her was 
quickly extinguished as she heard her 
close and lock the door at the head of 
the stairway as she went down. She 

271 


THE END OF DREAMS 
sighed helplessly, near to tears, and 
went to one of the front windows. Here 
the ground below was level, but it was 
a long drop, full of possibilities of frac- 
tures and sprains. And even if she 
alighted unhurt, what could she do? 
The little-used road in front of the 
place was still deserted; beyond it, as 
on the other side of the house, were 
open fields and woodlands, and not an- 
other building to be seen. 

With a lump in her throat that was 
half choking her she turned almost 
hopelessly away from the window. But 
she must not give up hope. She must 
not give up her vigilance ! She must be 
ready for any opportunity that off ered. 
Her wandering gaze fell on the books 
and magazines. Both were mostly of 
the sporting variety, but there were half 
a dozen or more of the latest popular 
272 


THE EBONY CANE 

novels. Her nerves were on edge. 
Anything that could distract her 
thoughts from her position even tem- 
porarily might help to maintain her 
courage. She took up a book, and sat 
down in one of the big easy chairs to 
try to read. 

But she did not see the printed page. 
Where was she? How far from home? 
What could she do? These were the 
questions that constantly rang in her 
brain. The thought of why she was 
there only brought forth a shudder. 
Since she had awakened she had been 
treated with the utmost consideration 
and courtesy, but — How long would it 
last? She had not seen — him — yet. A 
chill went through her at the thought; 
yet even in her agitation, her courage 
did not fail her. There must be some 
turn of events to her advantage — she 
273 


THE END OF DREAMS 

knew it, she felt it! But for the pres- 
ent she could only wait — and hope. 
Determinedly she fixed her eyes on the 
printed page, and read, read every word 
and turned page after page with not 
the slightest idea of what she was read- 
ing. Her thoughts were far away. 
Where was Demas now? 

Suddenly she heard the key turn in 
the lock of the stairway door, heard it 
with a feeling of careless welcome, for 
Lena, in her desire to serve and to 
please, was not unpleasant company, 
and, in a way, her presence gave some 
temporary feeling of safety. Perhaps 
— the thought lent new hope to her 
heart-beats — she could gradually per- 
suade Lena — 

“ Good morning, Beatie.” 

He stood in the doorway, fresh and 
smiling, and looking better than she had 
274 


THE EBONY CANE 


ever seen him look before, but her re- 
pugnance was none the less. In her 
alarm she started suddenly to her feet. 
As she did so her body struck with some 
force against the table by her side, and 
a heavy ebony walking stick, with an 
ornate silver head, rolled off and fell to 
the floor. 

He picked it up, and laid it on the 
table again. As he approached she 
drew away from him, and stood by the 
open window, alert, and with nerves and 
muscles tense. 

“ I have come to ask you very humbly 
to forgive me for — last night, Beatie,” 
he said, still standing by the table. 
“But — I could not help it. If you 
could only understand how I — love you ! 
You must know that I wouldn’t harm 
you and that I would not let any one 
else harm you as long as I had a breath 
27 5 


THE END OF DREAMS 


of life left to fight for you. You are 
as safe here as in your own home.” 

She almost feared to trust her voice 
in reply, and yet she felt that she must 
not let him see that she was afraid. 

“Safe?” she repeated in a tone of 
scorn which she hoped masked her agi- 
tation. “From thieves? From a thief 
who does his miserable work at night? ” 
He flushed and paled, and even 
shrank as if he had received a blow. 

“ Don’t, Beatie, please,” he said, al- 
most pitifully. “Haven’t you made 
me suffer enough already for that wild 
bit of folly? ” 

She did not answer. 

“And yet,” he went on, “I found 
you by it — found you at a time when I 
longed for you most, when I needed you 
most. Surely, Beatie, you cannot go 
on scorning such a love as I offer you. 

276 


THE EBONY CANE 

You are everything to me, and I would 
do anything in the world to serve and 
please you.” 

“ Let me go home, then.” 

He drew a long breath as if he fully 
understood how patient he must be with 
her. 

“Beatie,” he said, “I only want a 
chance to convince you of my devotion. 
When I have done that I am sure you 

win—” 

“Oh!” In the half suppressed cry 
that she gave was mingled relief, hope, 
exultation ; and yet in it, too, was a note 
of alarm — for what might not happen 
now? 

He sprang to the window at her side. 
A cab had stopped in front of the house, 
and a man was getting out of it. With 
a smothered oath, he pushed her quickly 
backward, and out of sight. His hand 
277 


THE END OF DREAMS 

flew to his hip, and as he brought it 
forth a revolver glistened in it. 

Her piercing scream and the shot 
sounded together, and the glass in the 
side on One-Eyed John’s cab was shat- 
tered. The passenger who had sprung 
out looked up, and started for the house 
on a run. 

Again the man at the window raised 
his revolver, and Beatrice sprang at him 
fiercely in a futile attempt to arrest the 
shot. With a quick shove he sent her 
staggering half way across the room, 
and against the table. As her hand 
grasped it to steady herself it fell on the 
heavy ebony cane. 

Almost wild with terror at the dan- 
ger her Demas was in, she grasped the 
cane in both hands, and, lunging for- 
ward, brought it down with all the 
added strength that frenzy gave her on 
278 


THE EBONY CANE 

the head of the would-be murderer just 
as his second shot rang out. 

The revolver fell from his hand, he 
half turned toward her and then fell, 
face downward, on the floor, and lay 
there as if he were dead. 

With one terrified glance at him, she 
darted into the hall and — Thank God! 
The door of the stairway was ajar! She 
flung it open and ran down the steps 
just as Demas was pushing open the 
front door. 

Through the door in the back of the 
hall came the ponderously hurried steps 
of Dutch Heinie, with wonder staring 
from the usually expressionless eyes 
that looked out barely above his heavy 
brush of beard. Behind him was Lena 
with a wet plate in one hand and a dish 
towel in the other. 

The cry Beatrice gave startled them 
279 


THE END OF DREAMS 

still more, as she rushed down the steps 
and threw herself into Demas’s arms. 

“ Oh, Demas, Demas, save me! ” she 
cried, half sobbing. “ Take me away 
from here! Take me home! ,, 

He held her closely to his breast, and 
glanced about him quickly and appre- 
hensively, expecting further attack, but 
none came. 

“ Iss der anyting der madter, Misdter 
Tayref ” asked Heinie, with phlegmatic 
interest. 

Demas hesitated a moment before an- 
swering while many thoughts passed 
through his mind. Better wait, was his 
conclusion. Beatie’s safety was the 
first consideration now. 

“ No,” he said, steadily. “ I guess 
not.” 

“I t’oughdt I heardt some shodts 
now,” said Heinie, doubtfully, for it 
280 


THE EBONY CANE 


was not his business to inquire into the 
affairs of his guests too closely. 

“Yes,” agreed Demas; “they 
sounded as if they were out there in 
front of the house.” 

Beatrice still clung to him closely. 

“ Demas, take me away, now, quick! ” 
she cried, fearfully. “ We must hurry! 
Oh, let’s go — go! ” 

He took her up in his arms, and 
walked rapidly back to the cab. Then 
pausing just long enough for a word 
to the driver, he stepped into the cab 
with her still in his arms, and the horse 
started at a rapid pace. 

“ I guess she godt veil predty quigk 
all righdt alreadty yedt,” said Lena, as 
she went back to her dish washing. 


281 


CHAPTER XXI 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 

JT was half past five that afternoon 
when Antoine opened the door in 
answer to Demas’s ring. 

“Miss Garwood is expecting you, 
sir,” he said. 

Demas looked at him curiously; it 
was evident that Antoine did not know 
the difference, whatever he might sus- 
pect from his previous day’s experience. 
The circumstances, however, served De- 
mas’s purpose just now quite as well. 

“ She instructed me to ask you to go 
right up, sir,” Antoine went on, reliev- 
ing Demas of his hat and coat with the 
unobtrusive skill born of natural talents 
and long practice. 


282 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 


Student of artistic effects that she 
was, Yashti had taken care not to hear 
Demas’s tread on the thick carpet of the 
hallway, and permitted him to gaze at 
her for a moment or two from the open 
doorway before she looked up. Again 
the curtains had been drawn, and she 
lounged in the same attitude of grace- 
ful negligence she had assumed the 
evening before. But now the kimono 
and slippers were yellow, and there was 
a large yellow rose in her hair, a cos- 
tume even more effective than the blue 
— which, in itself, showed that Vashti 
was expecting somebody. 

Finally she looked up, nicely opening 
her eyes a little wider in an expression 
of surprise which quickly changed to a 
welcoming smile. And there was no 
hesitation or doubt in her manner when 
she spoke. 


283 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“You come softly, Mr. Dayre,” she 
said, holding out her hand to him with 
the curved wrist higher than the grace- 
fully drooping fingers. Then with a 
slight and equally graceful gesture of 
her other hand, she added: “ The easi- 
est chair in the room awaits.” 

“ I was told when I got here that you 
were expecting me, but — ” 

“ Antoine is ever tactful,” she smiled; 
“ and as truthful as he is discreet and 
reliable.” 

“ Why?” 

“ It is the way he holds my confidence 
and his place — ” 

“ I thought you would understand 
me. 

“Perhaps,” she smiled again, quizzi- 
cally, “I did.” 

“ Then why—” 

Her smile changed to a light rippling 

284 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 

laugh, and she shrugged her shoulders 
slightly. 

“ When a woman evades a question,” 
she said, “it means that you must not 
ask her things, but tell her things.” 

Demas leaned back in his chair. 

“Very well, then,” he said. “I 
found the man who calls himself Demas 
Dayre.” 

“You saw him?” 

“ No.” 

“Then it was not you,” she said, 
looking at the heavy bracelet she was 
slowly turning on her arm, “ who hit 
him?” 

“No,” he replied, looking straight at 
her as if trying to read her thoughts, 
now further concealed by her lowered 
lashes. “ May I ask how you knew 
that he was hit?” 

“ Oh, quite naturally. There is a 
285 


THE END OF DREAMS 

telephone, you know; and I went out 
with the surgeon in his auto.” 

“ And his condition is — ” 

“ Still rather dazed when I saw him; 
but the doctor said there was no frac- 
ture, and that he was merely stunned. 
He will have a somewhat uncomfort- 
able week or ten days, and then — it will 
be merely an unpleasant and strange 
memory.” 

“ Thank you,” said Demas, rising. 
“ I had feared that perhaps — ” 

“ It might be worse? ” 

“ Well— yes.” 

“ And you feared?” 

“ Naturally.” 

She laughed a little. 

“ All men are created free and equal 
— and different,” she said. “ Sit down 
again, please. Maybe I shall think of 
something you can tell me in exchange 
286 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 


for the reassuring information I have 
given you.” 

“ I am at your service.” 

She busied herself a moment lighting 
a cigarette. Then she spoke with evi- 
dent deliberation. 

“ If a man had tried twice to kill me,” 
she said, “I don’t think I should fear 
that he might have been killed.” 

“ Circumstances,” replied Demas, 
briefly, “ alter cases.” 

She raised her eyebrows a trifle, mo- 
mentarily. 

“ To be sure,” she said. “ It was all 
arrant folly. Lately it seems to me 
that sometimes Demie is not quite — 
well, discreet. But — ” she paused, and 
again spoke with deliberation — “if it 
were directly between you and him, 
wouldn’t you, after what has passed, 
kill him?” 


287 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“No.” He spoke decidedly. “I 
think I understand, and do not wholly 
blame him for the attempts he has made 
on my life. I have no desire to kill him. 
I merely want to meet him face to face, 
and eye to eye, by ourselves, in some 
room with closed doors. When that 
time comes — and it will come! — not a 
blow will be struck by either of us, but 
a conclusion will be reached quickly and 
completely, and there will be no further 
— misunderstandings.” 

There was an undercurrent of mys- 
tery in his words that piqued her while 
it baffled her. 

“It might be arranged,” she said, 
slowly. 

“You would place me under lasting 
obligations if you could manage to ar- 
range it.” 

Again she laughed in her peculiar 
288 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 

mocking, but not unpleasant or irritat- 
ing way. 

“There is nothing quite so epheme- 
ral as lasting obligations,” she said. 
“ But, of course, we shall have to wait 
until Demie’s head gets well.” 

“He will stay — out there?” 

“ You will not undertake to meet him 
there, will you, while he is disabled? ” 

“No; but it is some satisfaction to me 
to know where he is when it is possible.” 

There was something of approval in 
her smile. 

“He will stay there, I think,” she 
said. “ It is a good place.” 

“ What kind of a place is it, if I may 
ask?” 

The slight shrug again moved her 
shoulders. 

“It is a retreat, a rest cure, a place 
where one can go in time of need, and, 

289 


THE END OF DREAMS 


for a while, be forgotten; and, if one is 
lucky, perhaps forget.” 

He studied her eyes as she said this. 
In them were traces of bitter memories; 
then they were again smiling at him in 
the same mildly cynical way as before. 

“Do you ever want to forget?” he 
asked. 

“ Sometimes,” she admitted, with the 
cynicism of her smile perhaps increas- 
ing; “but it is a difficult thing; few 
achieve it. May I offer you a glass of 
wine?” 

“ No, I thank you.” 

“ You don’t drink? ” 

“ Sometimes.” 

“But not in my house? It is not a 
compliment.” 

“ It was not meant to be otherwise.” 

“ I suppose not. The bitterest truths 
are usually well meant. At least you’ll 
290 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 

take a cigarette,” she said, pushing the 
bowl toward him. 

He took one, and lighted it. 

“I would ask you a question,” he 
said, “if I were sure you would not 
take offense.” 

“ Never — where none is intended. 
But I do not promise to answer.” 

“I have been wondering for some 
time why a woman of your taste, cul- 
ture, refinement and beauty is — here.” 

She bowed low in her chair, and then 
lifted her head with a mocking smile. 

“You are more appreciative than I 
had hoped,” she said; “but why put a 
sting in the tail of your compliment?” 

“ Then I am to understand that you 
do not care to answer such a question? ” 

She took a long slow puff at her 
cigarette. 

“Well, no,” she said; “not in detail. 

291 


THE END OF DREAMS 

Speaking in a general way, though, I’ll 
say that even the best efforts of the 
young ladies’ seminary cannot invari- 
ably remove the unconventional from 
one’s blood.” 

“ It is unfortunate.” 

“ Perhaps — I don’t know. My life is 
entertaining, easy and pleasant — now; 
pleasanter than it was in what you 
doubtless regard as better days. Can I 
satisfy your curiosity in any other 
way?” 

“ Um-m-m, yes. How long have 
you known the man who calls himself 
Demas Dayre.” 

“ Eight years, or more.” 

“And when you first met him he 
was — ” 

“ Much what he is now. Demie 
doesn’t change a great deal. In fact, 
there has been a greater change in him 
292 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 

during the last two months than in all 
the previous time — and not for the 
better. Any other questions ?” The 
mocking smile held its place. 

“ Just one. How did you happen to 
be so far away from your — base of ope- 
rations as you were the first time I saw 
you?” 

“I lived in that town once — more 
years ago than I care to remember; and 
an unexplainable longing to see some of 
the old places came over me. I don't 
think I shall permit myself to have it 
again. And now I shall ask you a ques- 
tion. What is there between you and 
the man who is so much like you that 
one cannot tell you apart?” 

“ You must not consider me churlish, 
Miss Garwood, but I cannot answer 
that question now. Perhaps there will 
be an answer that you will understand 
293 


THE END OF DREAMS 

when the time comes that we shall meet 
face to face.” 

“ And eye to eye? ” 

“And eye to eye — that is also im- 
portant.” 

“Then I must strive to bring that 
about if I can. My curiosity is ex- 
cited.” 

“ At any time and any place where he 
and I can have a room to ourselves for a 
few moments.” 

“I will not say that I will bring it 
about, for that would sound boastful — 
and it is unbecoming for a woman to 
boast of what she will do with men ; but 
perhaps I shall.” 

Again Demas rose. 

“ And I will thank you in advance,” 
he said. “It is barely possible that I 
may not be able to do so afterward. In 
which case the thanks will be due and 
294 


WHEN A WOMAN IS CURIOUS 

doubtless will be forthcoming from — 
him. And now, with thanks also for 
the courtesy you have shown me, I’ll say 
good-bye.” 

“ Perhaps,” she said, rising, “the ob- 
ligation is mine. You have given me a 
rare quarter of an hour, Mr. Dayre, and 
one that I shall not forget. It has been 
a long, long time since I have had the 
same kind of pleasure in a call, and it 
has been almost like revisiting other 
days.” 

She stood gripping the curtains 
tightly as she listened to his muffled 
footfalls descending the stairs. Then, 
when she heard Antoine close the door 
behind him, she raised her clenched fists 
to her forehead. 

“What is it? What is it?” she ex- 
claimed. “I will make them meet!” 


295 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE WARNING 

TfASHTI GARWOOD was not a 
woman who wasted time. She 
struck when she thought the iron was 
hot, if the sledge were available. Thus 
it was that she arrived at Dutch Heinie’s 
about eleven o’clock the next morning 
in a hired automobile with a chauffeur 
who took more pride and pleasure in 
speed than in discretion; somewhat dis- 
hevelled as to veils and even hair, but 
exhilarated from her clearly hazardous 
sprint of ten miles in the bracing air of 
the fresh May morning. She did not 
run the machine clear up to the entrance 
path, but had the chauffeur stop a hun- 
296 


THE WARNING 


dred yards away in the shelter of a con- 
venient clump of roadside trees and 
walked the rest of the distance. 

Lena opened the door for her — not 
the tranquil eyed Lena of a few days 
before, but a woman who wore an ex- 
pression of haunting fear and suspicion, 
and who from time to time glanced sud- 
denly and apprehensively over her 
shoulder, as if she expected to see some- 
thing unwelcome; for Lena had not yet 
got over the nervous shock of seeing a 
man drive away in a cab, and then, fif- 
teen minutes later, finding the same man 
lying senseless in the big room upstairs. 
“Idt iss nodt so!” she declared to her- 
self, but her very eyes had given the lie 
to the reasonableness of her determina- 
tion, and now she trembled fearsomely 
when alone. 

“How is Mr. Dayre this morning?” 

297 


THE END OF DREAMS 

asked Vashti, unswathing herself from 
her veils. 

“He iss — all righdt — I guess,” re- 
sponded Lena, hesitatingly, for she did 
not go near her guest when she could 
avoid it. 

Vashti hung her wraps as best she 
could on the imitation black walnut hat- 
rack with its impracticable pegs. 

“He is up and dressed ?” she asked. 

“ Oh, yes; he iss ubpstairs in der bigk 
room now.” 

“ Then go on with your work, Lena, 
and don’t bother about me. I’ll go 
up,” she said, starting up the stairs. 

Demas Dayre, sitting with his elbows 
on his knees, and his face in his hands, 
did not hear her step on the stairs, so he 
looked up in a dazed way when he heard 
his name spoken — softly so as not to 
startle him. Besides his bluish discolor- 
298 


THE WARNING 


ation reaching down over the left side 
of his forehead from the effect of the 
blow of the cane, his eyes were blood- 
shot and his face was haggard. 

“ Hello, Vashti!” he said, rather 
feebly. “ I guess I’m glad to see you.” 

“Well, I like that!” she exclaimed, 
coming in and drawing up a chair near 
him. “ After my taking my life in my 
hands and a buzz wagon just to come 
out and see how you are getting along.” 

He smiled wanly, but did not answer. 

“What’s the matter now?” she de- 
manded. “Inside, I mean; I can see 
the outside marks all right, but that 
doesn’t account for it.” 

He threw himself back in his chair, 
and dropped his arms to his sides help- 
lessly. 

“ I’m all in, Vashti,” he said, in a tone 
of despair. 


299 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ What do you mean?” 

“ Just that. In less than a week I’ll 
not be ” — he hesitated and brought out 
the word reluctantly — “ anywhere.” 

“ Oh, cheer up, Demie ! ” she ex- 
claimed, hopefully. “ I can see from 
the marks that it must have been an 
awful jolt, but you’ll be all right again 
in a week; and everywhere you want to 
be instead of not anywhere.” 

He shook his head mournfully, and 
buried his face in his hands again. 

“ The dreams came while I was lying 
there unconscious,” he said, “ and again 
last night — Oh, worse than ever ! I saw 
it all — how it is going to be. And it is 
going to be soon, and ” — he lowered his 
voice, and looked about him fearfully 
— “here, I think. I’ll never leave this 
place, either alive or dead.” 

Vashti’s sympathies were with him, 
300 


THE WARNING 


but his utter lack of spirit, his unreason- 
ing fear, made them scant at that mo- 
ment. Something must be done, she 
thought, to stimulate his courage and 
lend resilience to his spirits ; and bottom 
facts were what she needed to work 
with. 

“Is it the girl?” she asked, after a 
pause. 

“ She hit me,” he replied, almost with 
a groan. 

“Oh, well—* ” 

“ If she is against me like that, what 
can I hope?” 

“Good Lord, Demie, I never knew 
you to take a girl so seriously before. 
It might be squared with her, and, if 
not, she isn’t the only girl in the world.” 

“ She’s the only — Oh, you don’t un- 
derstand.” 

“No; but I’m willing to.” 

301 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“With her, I’d not be afraid; but if 
she won’t stand by me, if I don’t have 
her to keep him off, I’ll — ” He 
slumped down in his chair with his chin 
on his breast. 

“Well, tell me all about it. Maybe 
I can help — ” 

“ I’m almost beginning to think, 
Vashti,” he went on, in a broken voice, 
as if he had not heard her, “ that maybe 
it is all right, that I ought to be the 
one — ” Again he did not finish. 

Vashti took a long breath and com- 
pressed her lips. There was no use try- 
ing to talk to him now. The blow over 
the head had evidently jarred him more 
than she thought and she would have to 
give him a few days to recover his poise 
before she could begin to straighten 
things out and solve the mystery of the 
relationship between the two men. 

302 


THE WARNING 


Now he had sunk into what appeared 
to be almost a stupor, with his chin still 
on his breast and his arms hanging list- 
lessly at his sides. 

She walked over and stood by the 
window, looking out carelessly, while 
she futilely turned the problem over in 
her mind. Suddenly she raised her 
head, and a look of interest succeeded 
the one of absorption. 

From the clump of roadside trees 
where she had left her automobile a 
bicycle emerged and came toward the 
house. Riding it was a messenger boy, 
short, slouchy and freckle faced, with 
his uniform cap set rakishly on the side 
of his head. He got off his wheel in 
front of the house, and for a moment 
stood contemplating it studiously as if 
he were comparing it with mental notes 
of description; then leaning the bicycle 
303 


. THE END OF DREAMS 

against a tree, he came straight for the 
front door. 

“Were you expecting a messenger, 
Demie?” Yashti asked, looking around. 

Apparently he did not hear her, for 
he did not answer, and still sat as before 
wrapped in the gloom of his forebod- 
ings. She turned again to the window, 
and leaned out. Lena was just open- 
ing the front door. 

“Fer Mr. Demas Dayre,” said the 
boy, taking an envelope from his book. 

“ Gif idt to me,” said Lena, extend- 
ing her hand for it. 

“Nix fer you, frau!” he exclaimed, 
taking a step backward, and holding it 
behind him. “I gives it to nobody but 
him hisself , that’s what, see ? Stric’ or- 
ders, an’ them orders goes wid me, fer 
the bloke dat sent it is all to the velvet.” 

“ I vill gif idt to him.” 

304 


THE WARNING 


“Nit, never! I’ll do the job meself. 
Show me the party.” 

“ Budt he iss ubp stairs, undt sigk.” 

“Well, I kin climb, an’ I ain’t 
afraid o’ no disease that any old doctor 
ever invented. Where’s yer stairs?” 
He came forward aggressively, and 
Lena gave way involuntarily before 
him. “ Oh, dere dey are ! W’y, dem’s 
easy. W’ich room ? ” 

“Der frondt room,” Lena replied, 
abashed at the messenger’s assurance, 
and yet with a guilty feeling that she 
was not doing her whole duty. 

“All right. Don’t worry about me. 
T’anks fer yer court’sy.” And he 
started up the stairs at the leisurely gait 
of his guild. 

Yashti met him at the door. 

“ Give me the note,” she said. 

“ ’Scuse me,” he said. “ Sorry to haf 
305 


THE END OF DREAMS 

to hand de marble heart to a lady, but 
orders is orders.” And with a clever 
side step, and a surprisingly quick for- 
ward movement, he passed by her into 
the room. 

As he entered, Demas raised his head 
with the stupidly surprised look of one 
who is just awakening to strange hap- 
penings. The boy stood, open mouthed, 
and stared at him. 

“Say-y-y!” he exclaimed. “You 
ain’t his twin brother nor nothin’, are 
you?” And without further inquiry 
he handed the note to Demas. 

Demas took it indifferently, and held 
it in his hand listlessly without looking 
at it. 

“ Well,” said the boy, “is there goin’ 
to be a nanswer? ” 

Roused by the question, Demas 
gazed at the note. Vashti watched him 
306 


THE WARNING 


closely, and saw that he began to trem- 
ble as he read the address. 

“Vashti,” he gasped, “it’s from 
him!” 

Her suspicions were confirmed, and 
she acted promptly. 

“Here!” she exclaimed, turning to 
the boy, and handing him a dollar. 
“ There won’t be any answer. Mr. 
Dayre is too sick to be bothered. Off 
with you!” And she shoved him into 
the hallway. 

He went, but he went reluctantly, as 
if he were afraid he was missing some- 
thing interesting. Vashti heard him 
descend the stairs slowly, and Lena let 
him out the front door. Then she ran 
to the window to watch his departure, 
for she wanted no strange witness of 
Demas’s weakness. 

As the boy was about to mount his 
307 


THE END OF DREAMS 

bicycle, he looked up and saw her at the 
window. 

“ T’anks, lady,” he called, throwing 
a kiss to her; “t’anks fer de plunk.” 
Then he swung into the saddle, and ped- 
aled off down the road whistling cheer- 
fully. 

She turned again to Demas. He still 
sat trembling, with the note unopened in 
his hand. 

“Read it,” she commanded, tersely. 

He tried to open the envelope, but his 
fingers were too unsteady. 

“Read it for me, Vashti, please,” he 
said, pitifully, holding it out to her. 

Quickly she drew the note from its 
envelope, and, with a hasty glance at his 
fear-strained face, read aloud: 

Demas Dayre: 

You have fired three shots and have thrown 
a deadly missile at me, but you will never make 
308 


THE WARNING 


another attempt on my life. The difference to 
be settled between you and me is not a matter 
for murder. But you know and I know that 
we cannot go on as we are. I will give you a 
week to recover your strength and nerves, and 
then I intend to find you. All that is necessary, 
as you know well enough, is for us to meet face 
to face, and alone. Everything then will be 
settled without effort or even action on the part 
of either of us. I know this and so do you. 

Demas Dayre. 


As she finished reading, and looked 
up, Demas collapsed in his chair in a 
dead faint. 


309 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE DAY BEFORE 

P VERY day Yashti Garwood made 
the trip to Dutch Heinie’s, and 
every day she went away more puzzled 
at Demas’s mood and condition. The 
visible and physical effects of the blow 
he had received passed away rapidly, 
but with their passing he did not regain 
the vigor and spirits that were charac- 
teristic of the past. Frequently he 
hardly raised his head when she came, 
and would only give answers in mono- 
syllables to her most skillfully leading 
questions. 

“You need a tonic or something to 
build you up, Demie,” she urged. 

310 


THE DAY BEFORE 

“Why not try a change of scene and 
air? Go away to some place.” 

He shook his head. 

“No,” he said, “I’ll wait here.” 

“Wait? What for?” 

He gave her no answer, but sat with 
his chin in his hand, moodily staring out 
of the window with eyes that saw things 
which were not there. 

The doctor, to whom Vashti talked 
confidentially, however, did not regard 
the case seriously. 

“ No permanent or even prolonged 
bad effects could result from the in- 
jury,” he declared, positively. “ It was 
not a crushing, or what could really be 
called a hard blow, and merely hap- 
pened to strike him in a way that 
stunned him. I should diagnose his 
present condition as a form of melan- 
cholia resulting from some previous 
Sll 


THE END OF DREAMS 

distress of mind, of which he has not in- 
formed us. It may take time, but it 
will be sure to wear off. Doubtless the 
time could be shortened if his interest 
could be aroused in some pleasure or 
work. But as this seems to be impos- 
sible, we can only be patient with him, 
and trust the excellent, care and food 
and the fresh air here to bring about his 
recovery gradually. Organically he is 
healthy, and within a week or so I hope 
to see a decided improvement in his con- 
dition.” 

Within a week or so? What had 
that note said about a week? Some- 
thing was to happen within that time 
which would mean much to one or both 
of the Demas Dayres. 

Vashti was eager to see the Demas 
Dayre who wrote the note. Evening 
after evening she sat in her most ef- 
312 


THE DAY BEFORE 

fective neglige waiting for him to ap- 
pear, but he did not come. Finally she 
sent a note to his hotel. 

“ I shall be at home at half past five 
this evening,” she wrote. “ Perhaps if 
you would come in for a few moments 
we could give each other some infor- 
mation that would be worth while.” 

As he bowed before her, she marked 
for the first time a distinct difference 
between the two men. This one was 
prompt and decisive in tone and move- 
ment, with clear eyes that were positive 
and full of determination. 

“You will sit down, Mr. Dayre?” 
she said. 

“ Yes,” he answered, with unflatter- 
ing frankness, “but it is hardly worth 
while. I can give myself the pleasure 
of only a very short call. May I in- 
quire after the patient? Is he better? ” 
313 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“Yes — and no. The injury to his 
head has been cured, but — I don’t 
know. He suffers from terrible moodi- 
ness and depression. The doctor says 
he is not really sick from any ailment 
except nerves, and that will cure itself 
in time. But — I don’t understand it.” 

Demas nodded without speaking. 

“ I don’t understand it,” she re- 
peated, catching his eye and holding it 
for a moment. 

“Nervous diseases are frequently 
very puzzling,” he said. 

For a moment she was silent, and 
then she spoke more tensely than usual. 

“ Have I not some rights in this mat- 
ter?” she demanded. “I have known 
Demie for years. He has been my 
friend, and I have been his, at times 
when friendship was needed; and he is 
my business partner. I have known 

314 


THE DAY BEFORE 


you only a short time, but under pecul- 
iar circumstances; and I know you are 
a gentleman — such as some of my 
friends, I must admit, are not. What 
is there between you and Demie? Is it 
the fag end of a family feud? Are 
you twin brothers who quarreled irrec- 
oncilably early in life?” 

“ Neither,” he answered, positively. 
“ I never saw him in my life; and we 
are not related, as relationship is rea- 
sonably considered.” 

She looked at him with parted lips. 

“As relationship is reasonably con- 
sidered?” she repeated. “ Is there some- 
thing that — is difficult to explain — that 
you think I could not or would not un- 
derstand or believe?” 

Demas rose, and stood looking down 
at her. 

“It is something that is difficult to 
SI 5 


THE END OF DREAMS 

explain, and so still more difficult to be- 
lieve that I think it is better not to go 
into it — now,” he said. 

“ The week is up,” she ventured, anx- 
iously. “When are you going to see 
him?” 

“Is he still where he was?” 

She nodded. 

“And will he stay there?” 

“ Till you come — I am sure of it.” 

“ Then I will go there to-morrow.” 

She started nervously. 

“Will there he — ” 

“I will go unarmed and unaccom- 
panied into the house.” 

“And what will happen?” 

“By to-morrow evening we shall 
know.” 

As he bowed and left her, she sank 
back in her chair trembling, and Vashti 
Garwood was not a woman who trem- 
316 


THE DAY BEFORE 


bled often. But for all that, her mind 
was made up to see what happened at 
Dutch Heinie’s the next day. 

It was late that evening when Demas 
rose to leave the Collamer flat. As 
Beatrice stood beside him, he turned 
suddenly, and took both her hands in 
his. 

“ Beatie,” he said, with a slight smile 
that lent eloquence to simple words, 
“ I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that 
I love you. You must know that. I 
loved you in the old days at college, and 
I’ve loved you ever since — only more. 
It was because I loved you so much 
that I went away from you then with- 
out speaking. Something happened 
that made me fear to tell you so; some- 
thing that I could not explain then, 
and cannot explain this evening, but — ” 
317 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ I do not ask you to explain, De- 
mas,” she said, with a look in her eyes 
that spoke of fond and unswerving 
confidence. 

“But I must explain before I can — 
To-morrow, Beatie, I think all the 
doubts and fears and distresses of ten 
years will end ; and if all goes well with 
me, I am coming to-morrow evening, 
Beatie, to explain it all, and to ask you 
to be my wife. Will you think it over 
till then, Beatie, and try to persuade 
yourself to sympathize with me?” 

“Yes, Demas,” she said, softly, “I 
will try.” 

With a quick breath, he caught her 
in his arms, held her tightly for a dozen 
kisses, and was gone. 


318 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE GATHERING STORM 

^^FTER a night of more wakeful- 
ness than sleep, Vashti Garwood 
rose with a feeling of oppression which 
was intensified by the sultry heavy 
atmosphere that foretold a storm. 
There was no glare of sunshine to greet 
her when she threw back the curtains, 
and she looked out on a sky that hung 
low with increasing banks of clouds. 

But it was something more than the 
gloomy morning that kept far from 
her the usually careless thoughts with 
which she took her coffee and rolls. 
Demas Dayre had been her friend and 
she his in times of misfortune and 
stress; and however wrong he might 
319 


THE END OF DREAMS 

have been, however unfair — she balked 
at the word “ cowardly ” because of the 
memory of him in braver moments — 
had been his attacks on the other De- 
mas, the obligation of friendship now 
called to her insistently. He was 
threatened with a danger which she di- 
vined rather than understood, and it 
was her duty to warn him, and to pro- 
tect him, if possible. As soon as she 
could get ready she called a cab, and 
started for Dutch Heinie’s. 

The sky seemed to swing lower and 
lower during the ten-mile drive, and 
though it was about eleven o’clock when 
she reached the house, the gloom of the 
day made it seem as if it might be half 
an hour after sunset. Lena, with a 
troubled face, met her at the door. 

“Is Mr. Dayre up? How is he this 
morning? ” she asked anxiously. 

320 


THE GATHERING STORM 

“He vas ubp before me alreadty,” 
Lena replied, dejectedly; the burden of 
Demas’s uncanny presence and gloomy 
ways bore more heavily on her every 
day. “ He is nodt so goodt diesen mor- 
gen, I t’ink.” 

“Where is he now?” 

“ In der bigk room.” 

“I’ll go up.” And Vashti hurriedly 
tossed aside her wraps, and ascended 
the stairs. 

She found him slumped far down in 
an easy chair by the table with his chin 
against his breast as if he might be 
asleep. To him the night had been one 
of horror, and he had watched for the 
coming of daylight with longing yet 
hopeless eyes. Twice had the dreams 
come to him with a vividness that ex- 
ceeded all of his former harrowing ex- 
periences. First, it had been of the old 
321 


THE END OF DREAMS 

days at college when the world was fair, 
when ambition was strong, and when 
the future was all for Beatie; then came 
the parting which he could not under- 
stand, the leaving behind of Beatie and 
ambition, the wandering in strange 
places and doing strange things; and 
after that his dream turned to his 
former dreams, and the gradual realiza- 
tion, fought off to the last moment of 
conviction, and hopelessly even after 
that, of what he was and what the fu- 
ture might bring to him. 

He awoke with a cry, and sat up in 
bed trembling, fearing for the moment 
that the very darkness about him was 
the oblivion from which his soul shrank. 
Then through the open window he 
caught sight of the faintly lighter sky, 
with one star. Even as he gazed at it, 
thankful for the reassurance it gave 
322 


THE GATHERING STORM 


him, it faded away, and only blackness 
remained. 

With a shudder he got out of bed, 
and putting on his dressing gown sat 
down by the window, heedless of the 
chill of the night. Already the clouds 
had begun slowly to mass for the com- 
ing storm; and as he sat there, and 
watched the stars disappear, one by 
one, he felt that each, with its passing, 
took something of his life. 

Finally, when they were all gone, his 
eyes, weary of the blackening sky, 
closed, and he slept. Again dreams 
possessed him, but this time they were 
of the present, of the danger threaten- 
ing him now, which he was powerless to 
avert. It came straight at him, inevit- 
ably; there was no way to escape, not 
even a way to turn aside for a moment, 
no respite. Nearer and nearer it came 
323 


THE END OF DREAMS 

until it was right upon him. There 
was a blinding flash of light, a crash, 
and then — 

Again he woke with a cry. He was 
dripping with perspiration, and trem- 
bling with terror. The slight breeze 
that came through the window chilled 
him to the marrow, but at first he was 
hardly conscious of it. Finally his 
staring eyes caught in the clouds the 
first grey touches of the dawn, and 
watching it, urging it on with his 
hopes, he almost forgot his fear of the 
day in his wish for it. 

Presently he became aware that he 
was chilled through and shivering, and 
got up and dressed. Again he re- 
turned to the window to watch the 
light’s slow gathering of strength, 
while he smoked steadily to prevent his 
going to sleep again. 

324 


THE GATHERING STORM 


Lena, uneasy at not hearing his 
morning ring, found him so. He de- 
clined breakfast, but she brought him 
coffee, which grew cold before he drank 
it. But it steadied him a little, and 
lent him enough momentary energy to 
go into the front room. 

He rolled his eyes up indifferently as 
Vashti entered, but hardly moved his 
head. 

“ Aren’t you any better this morning, 
Demie? ” she asked, very quietly, al- 
most tenderly. 

“No.” 

“I’m sorry. You must — ” 

“What difference does it make?” 
He spoke wearily, and slumped even 
lower in his chair. 

It seemed to her that with all his bulk 
and strength, he looked frailer than she 
had ever seen him before, and that he 
325 


THE END OF DREAMS 


was hardly more than a shadow of his 
real self. Even the brief glimpse of 
his eyes she had, showed that they were 
changed, and now had an unnatural 
and far-away look. 

“ Demie,” she said, earnestly, and 
with a depth of feeling that was 
strange to her, “you must get away 
from here. You are not only getting 
no better, but it is — making you 
worse.” 

He shook his head moodily without 
looking up. 

“Yes,” she said, determinedly, “you 
must. Any place will do. Go wher- 
ever you like. I’ve brought plenty of 
money for you — it’s yours as much as 
mine, for it’s from the game; and I can 
drive you in the cab to some station 
near here where you can catch a train. 
You can even make up your mind 
326 


THE GATHERING STORM 

where you want to go after you get on 
the train, and — ” 

“I won’t go — any place,” he said, 
doggedly. 

“Oh, Demie, you must, you must!” 
Her voice rose to a cry, and came close 
to breaking. 

He looked at her a moment with eyes 
that were inscrutable. 

“ I am not going, Vashti,” he said, 
quietly, and in a monotonous tone. 
“ Go back to the game, and look after 
things there, and don’t bother about 
me.” He had looked away from her, 
but his eyes sought hers again, as he 
added: “I’m going to give you my 
share in the game, Vashti. After this, 
it’s yours.” 

His words sent a chill through her. 

“Don’t talk that way, Demie!” she 
cried, trembling. “You don’t know 

327 


THE END OF DREAMS 


what you’re saying. Your nerves are 
gone altogether, and you’re sick and 
weak, and — ” 

“Weak?” he repeated, with a tinge 
of scorn. He rose and came straight 
to her. She paled with fear, and was 
tempted to fly or scream, but — it was 
Demie; what should she fear? 

With a quick movement he caught 
her up, and then settling her on one arm 
held her as one would a child. 

“Weak?” he repeated. “The 
nerves are in a bad way maybe, Yashti, 
but I’m not a physical wreck.” 

Then he set her down gently, and 
went back to his chair. 

“It makes no difference, Demie,” 
she insisted, “ you must go — now! Go 
somewhere, anywhere, to get away 
from here quick.” 

“Why?” 


328 


THE GATHERING STORM 


The question, inevitable as it was, 
seemed to take her by surprise. 

“Because — ” She hesitated, and a 
sob broke from her. “ Because you are 
not safe here.” 

“Why?” 

She was driven into a corner. She 
would not have told him if she could 
avoid it, but there seemed to be no other 
way. 

“ He — is coming — here — to-day,” 
she said slowly. 

He seemed to be sitting straighter in 
his chair when she looked up at him, 
and his head was no longer bowed. 

“I know it,” he said, quietly. “I 
am waiting for him.” 


329 


CHAPTER XXV 

FACE TO FACE AND EYE TO EYE 

TK7TTH all the joy that throbbed in 
* * Beatrice Collamer’s heart, there 
was a feeling of fear that she could not 
put away from her. What was Demas 
going to do? Again and again she 
asked herself the question, and the only 
answer that suggested itself but served 
to increase her fears. Why had she 
not found out before he left her? She 
reproached herself for a neglect of 
duty, and yet in that moment of ecstasy 
the world and all others in it had been 
forgotten, and then — he was gone. 

Demas slept later than he intended 
to that morning, slept to triumphant 
and stimulating dreams, which ended 
330 


FACE TO FACE AND EYE TO EYE 

in the pealing of bells. He opened his 
eyes on the new day with a smile of con- 
fidence. He was ready. Again the 
bells sounded, and his smile broadened. 
His peal of bells had been his room 
telephone. It was Beatrice’s voice that 
bade him good-morning. 

“ Please come to see me this morn- 
ing, Demas, before you go any place 
else, or do anything else,” she urged 
earnestly. 

“Is anything the matter?” 

“Nothing, only I want to see you.” 

“You haven’t seen — ” He stopped, 
but she understood. 

“Oh, no, no! Not at all. I haven’t 
seen anybody. But you will come, 
won’t you?” 

“ Of course, I’ll be there in about an 
hour.” 

There was relief in hex smile when 


331 


THE END OF DREAMS 

she greeted his coming, but there was 
apprehension in her heart at the thought 
of his going. Her insistent fears 
moved her to speak at once. 

“Demas,” she asked, “what are you 
going to do?” 

“Do?” 

“Yes; you said last night, you know, 
that — ” 

“Oh, that?” He answered cheer- 
fully, for there was no fear in his heart. 
“I’m just going to put an end to all 
those doubts and distresses, and” — he 
took her hands in his — “ arrange as well 
as I may for a future that will be tran- 
quil and happy for us, dear.” 

“You are going to find that man?” 
Her upturned earnest eyes were filled 
with the light of anxious love. 

There could be no evasion. 

“I had not meant you to know till 
332 


FACE TO FACE AND EYE TO EYE 

afterward,” he said, “but — yes, I am 
going to see him.” 

“ Don’t, Demas,” she pleaded. 
“ Please don’t.” 

“I must, Beatie. It is all to be — 
settled to-day. This time has been 
coming for years. It’s here now, and 
— I must.” 

Her arms went up around his neck, 
and her face was buried on his breast. 

“ Qh, Demas, Demas,” she half 
sobbed, “I’m afraid!” 

He held her close to him, and spoke 
soothingly, and with a confidence that 
must carry conviction. 

“You need not be afraid, Beatie,” 
he said. “ I do not believe there is any 
danger. I will come back to you this 
evening for — your answer.” 

Her arms tightened about him. 

“You’ve had my answer, Demas,” 
333 


THE END OF DREAMS 

she said. “ I love you so much that I 
am afraid for you all the time you are 
away from me. Isn’t there any other 
way so you won’t have to go?” 

“No, Beatie, I must go. Don’t be 
afraid, and don’t worry. I’ll come 
back to you this evening, and every- 
thing will be all right. Good-by now, 
till this evening.” 

He kissed her again and again, and 
then putting her gently into a chair, 
left her sobbing, with anxious eyes 
turned on the door that closed behind 
him. 

The storm had lowered almost to the 
breaking point when Demas arrived in 
One-Eyed John’s cab in front of Dutch 
Heinie’s house. As he stepped to the 
ground there was a long roll of thun- 
der, and, as it seemed, out of the very 
334 , 


FACE TO FACE AND EYE TO EYE 

end of it his ear caught the snorting of 
an automobile driven rapidly up the 
road. Hardly had he turned in the 
direction of the sound when the car 
shot out from the group of roadside 
trees, and a moment later came to a 
stop beside his cab. 

“Beatie!” he exclaimed, in surprise. 

“Yes, Demas,” she cried, as she 
sprang out of the car. “I couldn’t 
help it. I had to come.” 

“ I don’t s’pose, Mr. Dayre, that this 
really is the kind o’ junket to bring a 
lady on,” said Detective Holtsclaw, 
who stepped out of the car after her; 
“but there wasn’t nothin’ else to it. 
She said you’d gone to git that other 
bloke, an’ that she’d show me the way 
if I’d hurry along in a buzz wagon.” 

“You must go back, Beatie,” said 
Demas. “This is no place for you. 

385 


THE END OF DREAMS 


Surely you understand that. Holts- 
claw will take you right home.” 

“No, Demas, I must stay. I must 
be there when — ” 

“ An’ besides,” exclaimed Holts- 
claw, “the storm’s on us.” 

With a dash the long threatening 
clouds broke, and the rain came in tor- 
rents. 

“ Come, then,” said Demas, and tak- 
ing Beatie’s hand, they ran for the 
house. 

When he threw open the front door 
and they rushed in, they found Heinie 
and Lena in the lower hallway, not in 
a threatening attitude, as Demas more 
than half expected, but almost speech- 
less with awe at the course events were 
taking. 

“Where is he?” asked Demas, 
quietly. 


336 


FACE TO FACE AND EYE TO EYE 

“ Ubp stairs,” answered Heinie, 
mechanically. 

Demas turned and walked up the 
steps deliberately and calmly, followed 
by the others. 

In the hall above stood Vashti Gar- 
wood, pale and trembling. 

“ You said you would come alone and 
unarmed !” she exclaimed, scornfully. 
“ And here you bring — ” 

“ He did come alone! ” cried Beatrice, 
passionately. “ We only overtook him 
at the gate by coming in a motor. He 
did not know — ” 

“Never mind, Beatrice,” he said, 
soothingly. Then he turned to Vashti. 
“I will keep my word. I will meet 
him alone and unarmed. Where is 
he?” 

She did not answer. 

“He is in the house still?” 


387 


THE END OF DREAMS 

Still she remained silent. 

For a moment he stood and looked at 
her. 

“It is useless,” he said. “You 
might as well tell me, for I have come 
here to find him, and I will find him.” 

“Then find him!” she exclaimed de- 
fiantly. 

“ If he’s any place,” said Holtsclaw, 
“ he’s in that space between them two 
bedrooms, ’cause he’s in neither one of 
’em, and he’s not in the big front room. 
I’ve looked. That space ain’t accounted 
for, an’ you bet he’s there! ” 

Yashti’s face became chalky at his 
words, and she leaned against the wall 
for support. 

“What is that space?” Demas 
asked her. 

Her fear had grown sullen, after her 
defiance, and she did not answer. 


338 


FACE TO FACE AND EYE TO EYE 

“I know!” exclaimed Beatrice. “It 
is a small unfurnished room like a 
dressing room with a door into it from 
each of the bedrooms.” 

“Are there windows in it?” 

“ Only three little round ones not 
bigger than port holes high up in the 
wall.” 

“ Go into the other bedroom, Holts- 
claw, and stop him if he attempts to get 
out that way, and I’ll go in through this 
door.” 

He walked into the bedroom where 
Beatrice had spent that drugged night, 
and the others followed. Straight to 
the door of the dressing room he went 
and tried it. It gave to his hand. 
With a quick movement he opened it, 
stepped inside and closed it behind him. 

As the latch of the door clicked into 
its place, there was a blinding flash of 
839 


THE END OF DREAMS 


lightning that seemed to fill the room 
with blue flame, followed by a cannon- 
ade of thunder that jarred the house to 
its foundations. With a scream Vashti 
sank in a huddled heap on the floor, but 
Beatrice, with her eyes on the door 
where Demas had disappeared, hardly 
flinched, though her breast rose and fell 
with the deep breaths of extreme ex- 
citement. 

Then before the echoes of the thun- 
der had entirely died away, a gleam of 
sunshine streamed through the window, 
and Demas’s voice was heard behind the 
closed door. 

“Open the doors !” he called. 

In an instant Beatrice’s hand was on 
the knob. As she threw open the door, 
the one opposite was opened by Holts- 
claw, and between them stood Demas 
Dayre — her Demas! — calm, but with 

340 


FACE TO FACE AND EYE TO EYE 

the light of triumph in his face — and 
alone ! 

She sprang toward him with a cry 
of relief and delight, and he caught her 
closely in his arms. Then raising his 
eyes, and speaking, as it seemed to him- 
self, he said: 

“ It is the end of dreams.” 

“But Demie — the other one?” cried 
Vashti, as, with staring eyes, she 
struggled to her feet. 

“I am” — Demas seemed to hesitate 
for a word — “both.” 


341 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE BETTER PART 

T^OR twenty minutes One-Eyed- 
John’s cab made its way cityward 
at the ordinary jog trot of the lean, 
thin-limbed bay, without a word being 
spoken by either of the occupants. 
Beatrice, dazed beyond speech by what 
had happened, and silent, too, from the 
nervous reaction of a consciousness of 
danger past, stared unseeingly at the 
slowly passing landscape. But a feel- 
ing of comfort and security fostered by 
the arm which Demas still held closely 
around her enabled her gradually to 
recover something of her poise, and 
finally she raised her head from his 
shoulder and looked up into his face. 

342 


THE BETTER PART 

His eyes met hers with a smiling confi- 
dence that was reassuring, and he bent 
his head down and kissed her. 

“ It’s all right now, Beatie, little 
girl,” he said. 

The long sigh she gave spoke of the 
tension that had passed. For a few 
moments longer she remained silent; 
then she looked up at him again. 

“ Demas,” she said, “ you can tell me 
now, can’t you, dear?” 

“ I’m not sure that I can so it will be 
clear; but — ” He hesitated. 

“ I’ll understand, I’m sure I’ll under- 
stand.” 

“It began a long time ago — at col- 
lege. Maybe the college spirit had 
something to do with it — that’s the 
usual excuse. In those days I wasn’t 
exactly a mild and well-behaved young 
man. I don’t suppose you realized 
343 


THE END OF DREAMS 

that, because I was always at my best 
with you. I had to be so when I was 
with you because you made me so. But 
I rebelled against authority often, and 
when there was a college scrape I was 
generally mixed up in it. Then I got 
hit on the head with the ball. When I 
recovered all the rebelliousness was 
gone from me, and I had no desire for 
anything but the quiet and conven- 
tional. 

“But with the change came dreams 
in which I saw myself worse than I had 
ever been, not only defying authority, 
but defying the law, and sometimes 
actually committing crimes. The hor- 
ror of the thing grew on me until I 
wanted to get away from everybody. 
It may sound foolish now, Beatie, but 
I was afraid I might become what I 
dreamed myself to be. 

344 


THE BETTER PART 


“ The dreams grew in frequency and 
horror until my arrest for robbing your 
home confirmed the suspicion I had had 
a good while — that I really had another 
self that existed independently of me. 
Then I came to you again, and felt all 
the strength of your old influence for 
the good. From that time the dreams 
were no longer horrible. I knew that I 
should win, that I should conquer the 
other self, that the viciousness which 
made that other self possible was weak- 
ening, and that whatever was good in 
it would return to me, and the evil — 
disappear. It was only a question of 
meeting face to face that other being 
which lived on the worst of me. The 
dreams told me that; and I knew, I 
felt that they told him. That is the 
reason I sought him and he avoided me. 
That is the reason he sought you, and 
545 


THE END OF DREAMS 

loved you — for I know he did love you. 
But it was that very love which weak- 
ened him and strengthened me — the 
love of you; for you only loved what 
was best in me, and the best in me was 
always trying to live up to and be wor- 
thy of your love. 

“The final effort of that other self 
to assert itself was when he fired on 
me from the window, and his final fail- 
ure came when you knocked him sense- 
less. After that I think he knew, and 
was merely waiting for the end.” 

“But what happened in the room?” 
And even at the thought of that fearful 
moment the scared look came into her 
eyes. 

“I don’t know. When I closed the 
door behind me I found myself face to 
face with what might have been myself 
only apparently failing and fading 
34,6 



MY OTHER SELF HAD DISAPPEARED IN THE FLASH. 


' 





THE BETTER PART 


very rapidly. Then came that blind- 
ing flash of lightning, and, for a mo- 
ment, I thought I had been struck. I 
knew I had not, though, when I heard 
the roar and roll of the thunder. For 
a moment I was blinded, and my whole 
body was racked by some unexplainable 
shock. When I opened my eyes I was 
alone, and I knew that what I had. ex- 
pected had happened. The evil had 
weakened until it could no longer main- 
tain itself in a separate existence, and 
withhold such good as it had from me. 
My other self had disappeared in the 
flash, and I was once more master of all 
that was Demas Dayre.” 

She asked no further question; her 
faith was too strong for that, and her 
own experience too vivid; hut laid her 
head once more on his shoulder with an- 
other sigh. 


347 


THE END OF DREAMS 

“ I’m glad it is all over, Demas,” she 
said. 

Happiness requires few words, and 
little or nothing was said by either until 
they were once more at home. Then, 
as they stood there alone in the room 
where he had first met her again after 
those ten wasted years, he took her 
hands gently in his. 

“ I know it isn’t evening yet,” he said, 
smiling; “and maybe I shouldn’t be so 
impatient; but I should like very much 
to have my answer now.” 

Her arms went up around his neck, 
and pulling his head down she kissed 
him. 

“Yes,” she said, “if you’ll promise 
always to be my Demas.” 


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JAN 12 191! 


One copy del. to Cat. Div. 





1 ? 1911 



